The Last Lullabies: The 4th Quarter Quell
by HogwartsDreamer113
Summary: Katniss and Peeta have been eliminated and Panem has now reached a new quarter quell: "As a reminder to the rebels of the children who were made orphans during the rebellion, parents with at least one child under age 19 will be sent into the arena." With this twist being President Celestia Snow's first Quarter Quell, will she be able to hold the nation together?
1. Prologue 1

**Prologue 1: The Presidential Mansion**

 _92 NE*_

 _Three months after the 92nd Annual Hunger Games_

 _President's Quarters_

The mansion was silent, but the newly found peace was not unwelcome. The silence was to be expected, as not many of the mansion's residents and staff chose to be awake at nearly two in the morning. A lone woman in her mid-thirties sat awake in what was now the President's quarters. Her advisors had offered to command some Avoxes to move her belongs to a larger space. The section of the mansion that for nearly seventy years had been known as the quarters of President Coriolanus Snow could have been hers, but the woman had politely declined. The idea did not quite settle well in her stomach. Those quarters, though more luxurious than her own, were the site where Panem's longest reigning president had taken his last breath. The woman was certain she'd feel too haunted by Coriolanus's memory to catch any hope of sleep. Besides, these quarters, including the bathroom with the bubbling jacuzzi, the closet with enough clothes to last at least six months, and the fluffy king-sized bed with its satin sheets in which the woman lay, were comforting to her. She had, after all, lived here for thirty-one years of her life.

The day had been understandably hectic, as it was the new president's first official day on the job. The president believed she should have melted into her pillows with exhaustion, but regardless, she had been unable to sleep. Thus, she sat propped up against the pillow mound instead, reading an old article on her tablet.

 _18 June 75 NE_

 _Head Gamemaker Betrays Panem_

 _Newly appointed Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee committed treason this past Wednesday when he failed to supervise the finale of the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Instead, Heavensbee was discovered on board a stray hovercraft, along with District Twelve victor Haymitch Abernathy, and several other delinquents._

" _Heavensbee's motives were unclear," President Snow reported after the incident, "but he has proven to be a traitor to the nation of Panem. He and the other passengers aboard the hovercraft have been exterminated."_

 _A new Head Gamemaker will be selected by President Snow in plenty of time for the 76th Hunger Games. In the meantime, Panem citizens are asked to be on red alert for additional signs of traitorous acts. Report any suspicious activity to the Panem Department of Peacekeepers and Public Safety. In addition, stay tuned for any Presidential Addresses that may occur in the near future._

Sighing, the president closed the article. That wasn't the full story, she knew. Plutarch Heavensbee had been plotting a rebellion, and along with Haymitch Abernathy, the rumored leader of rebels from District Thirteen was suspected to be on the hovercraft and had been working in cahoots with Heavensbee and the other rebels. Even if she wasn't, Alma Coin was still likely to be dead, or at least severely weakened, as District Thirteen was secretly bombed not long after, suffering a major loss of population. District Twelve was also severely punished for the acts of its only remaining victor and the rebel known as Gale Hawthorne, who was also known to be aboard the hovercraft. Laws became stricter there, and Peacekeepers were told not to show any mercy towards the citizens. The population hovered at an all-time low for the district, at about 6,000, having lost just under a fourth of the population at the time when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark won their first Games. The president was unaware of these developments though, until about ten years later when she was old enough to learn fully of the events, at least in the eyes of Coriolanus Snow.

Despite the former president's actions to kill the Mockingjay's rebellion before it even started, rage and riot still bubbled in the district like an unattended pot of boiling water. Since the end of the 74th Hunger Games, riots had sprung up across Panem. District Eight had been the most violent, even going so far as to attack Peacekeepers. Their determination had not been able to be broken, no matter how much punishment was brought down upon them. In the other districts, little sparks of defiance flared up at every opportunity the rebels could find. The acts were small, but impactful nevertheless. Malfunctioning technology from Three. Frequent power outages from Five, ones that only affected the Capitol, of course. Trains driven by conductors from Six with missing or damaged supplies. Labor strikes in District Seven. District Eleven, known for being extremely oppressed with the highest number of Peacekeepers in control than any other District, had been taking more risks than ever before, committing a wide range of traitorous acts from shipping rotten produce to the Capitol to vandalizing their Peacekeepers' residences, even burning them to the ground. Even a select few renegades in for the most part loyal Districts One and Two had stirred trouble against the Capitol. Only District Twelve, ironically, had remained silent. Without their Mockingjay, they were helpless. District Twelve was ridden with disease and starvation, its citizens too weak to even plot a rebellion. In fact, District Twelve still remained victorless, all four of its victors dead. Without a mentor, the tributes felt hopeless, and none had survived past the top eight.

Even seventeen years after the death of Katniss Everdeen, the fire could not be put out. Not completely. The president was very much aware of this, try as the Capitol might. She knew life could not go on like this. Coriolanus Snow believed he had the districts under control, but the new president disagreed. She wouldn't go as far as to say she was wiser than the former president, but she did admit something needed to change. If the citizens of Panem were allowed to carry on as they were, there would be more rebellion, more death, more destruction. The president had no doubt that the nation would crumble beneath her feet if she didn't make a change, though she wasn't sure which direction to take. However, she refused to be known as the president who brought Panem to its knees. No, she would be remembered for keeping the nation united. How she could do that remained a mystery to her. No matter what happened though, the president needed control, craved it even. The president knew she needed allies. She just wished she knew who she could trust.

Reaching over to her nightstand, the president delicately picked up a double picture frame containing two familiar, yet so unknown faces. On the left, a young man with muddy brown hair stared at her solemnly, his pale blue eyes full of wisdom. Besides him, a woman who seemed to be a near-mirror image of the President with her dark mahogany brown hair showed off her smile. The main difference, the president noted, were their eyes. The woman's eyes were a warm honey brown, while the president's were as cold and icy as her father's and grandfather's. The woman the president knew never smiled that brightly, though. The president couldn't remember ever seeing her mother smile at all, for that matter. The president's memories of her parents were so vague, but somehow their presence in the frames were comforting. Though they were strangers to her, she still felt their connection to her. It was an odd feeling, if the president was to be frank, but welcoming. At the same time, their legacies puzzled her. Why had they left her? Her mother committed suicide after her father's death, the president was told as a teen, but why? Her father had been so young. For a Capitolite to pass on so youthful with so much potential in their lives was a rarity. It didn't make sense to the president, not at all.

"I hope you're proud, Mother. I hope this is what you would have wanted for me, Father. I like to think you'd be encouraging me right now if you were still here. I promise you, though, I will do my very best. I will not turn my back on my people. I only wish I didn't feel so alone."

Gently, the president kissed each photo before lightly setting the frames back on the nightstand. Then, the president clapped her hands twice to shut of the light. Pulling the covers up to her chest, the president heaved a deep sigh and allowed herself to sink into the pillows. Hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep tonight, President Celestia Snow closed her eyes. She had a long road ahead of her.

 ***A note on the years: Instead of making up a year that** _ **The Hunger Games**_ **series takes place in, I decided it would be easier to start anew. N.E. starts for New Era, and starts the year of the first Hunger Games. Therefore, this prologue takes place a few months after the 92nd Games. It is important to note that the rebellion was not carried out. More about the 75th Games will be discussed by it's victor.**

 **Author's Note: Hi, I'm Dreamer, and welcome to my SYOT! I hope you've enjoyed this prologue and are now interested in submitting! If so, continue on!**

 **As you may have noticed, this SYOT is a Quarter Quell. This, of course, means there is a twist. The twist will be officially announced next chapter, but since you need it for your submission, here it is:** " **As a reminder to the rebels of the countless children who were made orphans during the rebellion, parents with at least one child eighteen-years of age or younger will be sent into the arena."** **Please keep this twist in mind when submitting your tribute.**

 **Because I don't want to make this A/N incredibly long, as it's starting to be already, the form and guidelines are on my profile. PLEASE submit by PM only and keep your PM inbox open. I want to be able to contact you if I have questions. I'm sorry, guests, but I am very unlikely to accept tributes through reviews.**

 **Here is a list of tributes so far. For an updated list, see my profile, as the lists in the chapters won't be updated as often. I will add tributes I really like right away, but don't be discouraged if yours isn't on the list imediately. They are not out of the running yet. Please don't nag me about when your tribute will be added, though.**

 **Tribute List:**

District 1 male: Valor Acosta, 39 - _Kate-the-Great-and-Powerful_

District 1 female: Open

District 2 male: Justus Fiore, 34 - _CelticGames4_

District 2 female: Open

District 3 male: Open

District 3 female: Open

District 4 male: Open

District 4 female: Open

District 5 male: Seamon Deveir, 42 - _youngpatriot_

District 5 female: Open

District 6 male: Open

District 6 female: Open

District 7 male: Open

District 7 female: Open

District 8 male: Open

District 8 female: Open

District 9 male: Open

District 9 female: Open

District 10 male: Open

District 10 female: Lil C., 26 - _Wetstar_

District 11 male: Open

District 11 female: Open

District 12 male: Open

District 12 female: Open


	2. Prologue 2

**Prologue 2: The Quell Announcement**

 _100 NE_

 _Two months prior to the 100th Hunger Games_

 _City Circle, Outside Presidental Mansion_

At twelve, Finnick Odair had wondered what it would be like to be famous. Mags, his grandmother's cousin and honorary grandmother, knew fame well as a victor. She didn't often talk about it though, other than to say she didn't exactly enjoy the fame. At the time, Finnick had trouble understanding. At fourteen though, the young Odair met fame by becoming the youngest victor in history, and he thought he knew all it entailed. He did not, however, not yet. At sixteen, President Coriolanus Snow made him sell his body to Capitolite citizens, because of his immense popularity with them. At that point, Finnick didn't see how his life as a victor could grow any worse.

Then, the fourth Quarter Quell rolled in. The news hit Finnick like a tidal wave, knocking shock into him. He knew why it was happening. Snow was meaning to punish Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark for their acts of rebellion, and for igniting a spark in the districts, when all they had wanted was what all victors wanted, to survive. Yet, Finnick knew he would be punished as well. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be reaped, as he was the youngest male victor in Four and by far the most popular. What he didn't expect was his love, Annie, being reaped beside him, and Mags volunteering in her place. That was when the real nightmare began.

Upon arriving in the Capitol prior to the Games, Finnick had been approached by Haymitch Abernathy and Plutarch Heavensbee, who asked if he would join the growing rebellion and protect Katniss Everdeen at all costs. Heavensbee had a formulated a plan to rescue any victor who was still alive and who had agreed to the plan to protect the Mockingjay as soon as he had the opportunity. Finnick agreed, vowing to protect the Mockingjay even if it meant risking his own life.

Little did the rebels know, someone else was striking a deal. Snow wanted the Mockingjay dead. Putting out her fire was the main reason for the quell in the first place. To ensure his plan, Snow recruited the Careers from One and Two to carry out the Mockingjay's execution. Of course, the Careers agreed, as one did not argue with Snow if they wanted to have any hope of living.

During the Bloodbath, the alliance of One and Two targeted Katniss Everdeen. Brutus of District Two managed to beat Katniss to the Cornucopia and kicked the only bow into the water, leaving the Mockingjay weaponless. This gave Gloss and Enobaria the opportunity to catch up to her. Meanwhile, Cashmere moved to distract Finnick. He injured her enough to cause her to fall into the water, but was then distracted by an attack from the man from Five, who unwittingly was aiding the Careers' plan. By the time Finnick killed him and was clear of all threats, it was too late. The Mockingjay was already dead. Finnick attempted to offer an alliance to her love, but Peeta felt so much distress for not being able to aid Katniss in time that he declined and ran off on his own. He died that night, after running into the force field, as Finnick later discovered.

The rest of the Games were hell for Finnick. Mags died on the second day, after walking into a poisonous fog after Finnick could no longer carry her without collapsing. Later in the day, an emotional Finnick joined forces with his friends Johanna of District Seven and Beetee and Wiress of District Three. The few moments of peace were disrupted when the Careers attacked the group and Wiress, Gloss, and Cashmere lost their lives.

All was proved to not be lost when Finnick's alliance received word of the rebels' plan to rescue them the following day. That morning, Beetee created a plan to take out the pair from Two. The group would use a tall tree that conducted electricity and a long trail of copper wire to fry Brutus and Enobaria, who would surely take up residence on the beach. By the end of the day, Enobaria and Brutus would be dead, and Finnick and his friends, along with fellow rebel Chaff, would be saved from the arena.

However, the plan did not carry out as it should have. Chaff was killed by Brutus, and Enobaria and Johanna met while the victor from Seven was bringing the wire to the beach. A battle ensued, and Johanna was killed, though not before fatally injuring Enobaria, who crawled to the beach. Meanwhile, upon hearing Johanna's cannon, Finnick had left Beetee to investigate. When he returned, he found Brutus attacking his last ally, and killed the male victor from Two in retaliation. However, Beetee was badly injured, which forced Finnick to drag him away from the tree before lightning could strike. When Enobaria's cannon sounded, the two victors realized they were the final two victors remaining in the arena. However, they also realized Heavensbee's hovercraft should have arrived to save them, but had failed to do so. Beetee deducted that the rescue was not to occur, and if one of them didn't die soon, the Capitol was sure to send horrors their way. Bleeding out, Beetee knew he wouldn't last long before passing out, and realizing he was dying and that help would not be coming, he pleaded with Finnick to kill him. After some persuasion, Finnick did so, and was crowned victor of the seventy-fifth hunger games.

With his second victory, Finnick's popularity grew stronger than ever before, sometime he never thought possible. Of course, Finnick didn't feel much like a victor. Everything had failed, and he had lost so much. So many were dead. His friends, Mags, even the Mockingjay. He eventually discovered why he and Beetee weren't rescued. Heavensbee and Haymitch were dead as well, their hovercraft discovered and shot out of the sky.

When the Capitol pulled Finnick out of the arena, he wasn't treated as their prized victor as he was after his first Games. Even though he arrived in the hovercraft relatively unharmed, peacekeepers onboard the Hovercraft had knocked him out. He awoke in a cell in the Capitol, with a hysterical Annie imprisoned next to him. They both went through agony after that, worse than in any of their arenas. Snow wanted to know anything he could about the brewing rebellion and used torture, mostly through electric shocks, to attempt to retrieve the answers he desired. He quickly realized Annie knew less than he did. Finnick couldn't have risked her life like that.

Snow was done with Annie, but he still put Finnick through the most excruciating pain he ever been in. Finnick didn't have any information that Snow didn't already know though, so eventually, the president realized he was getting nowhere, and let Finnick and Annie go free. There were conditions to be met, however. Finnick and Annie had to live full time in the Capitol under high surveillance. One toe out of line, and Annie would be executed in front of his eyes, as well as her sister, her best friend, and Finnick's mother back in Four. If that happened, Finnick was sure he would break down beyond the point of no return. So, he obliged. He behaved.

Somehow, life returned to normal. Finnick lost contact with Thirteen and any rebellion they might have there. He had already lost so much, he simply could not risk any more. He still had Annie though, and Snow even allowed them to be together. He had to lie to the public, become an actor around them as he had been doing for a decade. To the public, he said he didn't care about her, that nothing they had was serious, and that the people of the Capitol were his one true love. He portrayed her as a naive girl who was in love with a man she couldn't have. He _hated_ that. He did love her. He loved her with his whole heart. She knew though. She didn't fall for his false words. For that, he was glad.

Around four years after the quell, a miracle happened. Finnick and Annie had a son, as unexpected as he was. They had talked about passing the baby off as another man's, saying that someone had taken advantage of Annie in her vulnerable state, but decided against it, wanting their child to know his father for who he really was. It was just as well in the end. While Kai, twenty-one during the year of the fourth Quarter Quell, had his mother's reddish-brown hair, the rest of him was all his father, from the texture of his hair to his sea-green eyes to the shape of his face. He was undoubtedly his parents child. Three years later, Kai was joined by a sister, Magdalene, or Maggie for short, who was named after Mags. Needless to say, the children were wildly famous growing up, though Finnick and Annie tried their best to shield their children from the worst of the Capitol.

Once Celestia Snow took her grandfather's position as president, she ended mandatory prostitution for all victors and offer the chance for the Odair family to go home. The couple declined, however. With their children aged fourteen and eleven, moving back to District Four permanently would mean risking their children being reaped. Once Maggie hit nineteen, perhaps they would consider moving back to Four, but for the moment, the Capitol was the after their home, minus a month long annual trip to the district following each Games. Besides, the children were happily enough in the Capitol. They each had a few true friends, ones who weren't trying to befriend them just for their fame. They did have trouble fitting in with the culture though, knowing how much suffering their victor parents had gone through. Kai was currently attending Capitol University as a pre-med student, and Maggie was about to start in the fall, though she had no idea what she wanted to do.

With two months before the fourth Quarter Quell, an important event was occurring in the Capitol. This particular night was the evening President Celestia Snow would announce the Quell twist, and as an important figure and only living Quell victor, Finnick had a front row viewing of the announcement, along with his family. From here, he could see the president's facial features clear enough to tell that while she was attempting to seem proud, strong, and regal, a hint of nervousness was easily detectable.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the president said after a brief introductory speech, "citizens of Panem, I present you with the twist for our fourth Quarter Quell."

The crowd cheered, and a little boy presented her with the ancient box containing the infamous Quell cards. As per tradition, the president withdraw the envelope labelled "one-hundred" and delicately slide out the card before reading the card aloud.

"As a reminder to the rebels of the countless children who were made orphans during the rebellion, parents with at least one child eighteen-years of age or younger will be sent into the arena."

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting. That was the only word he could think of to describe it. Finnick sighed. This definitely would not be just an ordinary year. Hopefully this quell would not be the only change coming to Panem that year.

After all, a man could dream, couldn't he?

 **Author's note: Thank you for all the submissions that have come in so far! Just a reminder that you can submit up to two, but if you do, you must be willing to sacrifice one to the bloodbath.**

 **Reapings will start next chapter! :D I'm only doing 6 reaping chapters, because otherwise I'd take too long to do all twelve. So I'm doing two districts per chapter, with one pov per district. Every tribute will get the same number of pre-games POVs though, so don't worry about that. Also, because District Twelve always ends up being last to see their tributes, I'm hoping to have the order of chapters be something like this:**

 **1\. Districts 1 and 12**

 **2\. Districts 2 and 11**

 **3\. Districts 3 and 10**

 **4\. District 4 and 9**

 **5\. Districts 5 and 8**

 **6\. Districts 6 and 7**

 **If I don't get both Twelve tributes in time (and I'm hoping I will) I'll simply go in consecutive order, starting with One and Two, as I have all my careers.**

 **This prologue was simply to explain the events of the 3rd Quarter Quell and how Finnick's life is now. Finnick is my favorite character, so making him the victor was all too tempting. If something doesn't make sense or seems unrealistic, let me know.**

 **An updated character list can be found on my profile. PLEASE read all rules and guidelines and pay attention to the statistics I've provided. I know it's a lot to read, but they really are important.**


	3. Chapter 1: Reapings, Districts 1 and 12

**Author's note: Thank you to Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful, xxbookwormmockingjayxx, grimbutnotalways, and CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean for Valor, Ivory, Lucy, and Joshua respectfully. Also, thanks to CelticGames4 for letting me borrow the mayor of One, Gravity Stowers. Suave is partly named by Wetstar. Thanks for the contributions everyone.**

 **Warning: Strong language in Lucy's POV. This story is rated T after all.**

 **Chapter 1: Districts One and Twelve Reapings**

 **Valor "Val" Acosta, District One male, 39 -** _ **Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful**_

"Come on, Stone! We've been over this! Your feet are too close together and you're not drawing your arm back far enough."

"Dad, I'm trying! I just can't. I'm not as good as you and Flair."

Valor Acosta was frustrated. No matter how much he prodded and coaxed his fifteen-year-old daughter, Stone, she just wasn't making any progress with any weapon, not even the throwing knives she had been working with for years. Her half-sister and his older daughter, Flair, was a prodigy. She was a natural, just like her father, and would have been selected to volunteer this year if it weren't for the twist. Stone, however, was the opposite. While Valor loved both his daughters and wanted to see them succeed, he couldn't understand why Stone wouldn't try harder.

"Stone, stop. Don't talk like that," Valor said, trying to seem stern. "You can do this. You'll accomplish great things someday, you just have to believe in yourself. Look, I'm pushing forty and I'm volunteering for the Games this year! You know me, I intend to win them. If I can do it, so can you."

"Just let it go, Dad! I'll never measure up to your standards," said Stone, crossing her arms. She was sick of training. She wanted to go home and make better use of her time.

Valor sighed and rubbed his temples, trying his best to not explode on his youngest child. People assumed being a trainer was easy, but it really wasn't. Especially when one had to work with their own daughter who refused to work up to her own potential. Valor worked hard to teach his daughters how to succeed, and these discussions had become an almost daily occurrence, but he still couldn't seem to get through to her. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't just stand around with Stone all day. He had other tributes to attend to.

"Stone, someday you'll understand. I just want what's best for you and your sister. I don't push you to be cruel, I push you because I want you to succeed. I just wish you had as much confidence in yourself as I do in you. Do you understand?" Stone nodded slightly, and Valor rested a hand on her shoulder. "Good. Now hit the showers and get changed. We should leave for the reaping in half an hour."

"Yes, Dad," Stone said, then headed for the girls' locker room.

Meanwhile, Valor searched for Flair near the spears station only to find her not there. Frowning, he gazed around the small gym, finally spotting his older daughter sitting alone at a table. Quickly, he strolled over. "Flair, why aren't you training?"

Flair only sighed. "What's the point? I can't volunteer anymore because of this stupid Quell."

Valor nodded sympathetically, knowing how much volunteering had meant to her. That was one of the reasons he was volunteering himself, to honor her. "I know that, but you love training."

Flair shook her head. "No. I can't volunteer, so why should I bother?"

Valor frowned. Despite knowing what it was like to not have the chance to volunteer when he was younger, he was not sure how to comfort her. He had hoped she would be cheered up by his decision to volunteer, but so far, he had had no such luck. "Well, who knows? Maybe next Quell, relatives of victors will be eligible to participate no matter their age, and that will mean you, as I will be a victor then."

Flair rolled her eyes slightly, doubting the possibility. "Whatever, Dad. I'm going to get ready for the reaping," she said, and with that, Valor's other daughter left his presence, as grumpily as the first.

"Alright, tributes!" boomed the loud voice of Shine Davis, a fellow trainer and Valor's close friend. "Good work this morning. You are dismissed for the reaping, but remember, just because none of you will be reaped doesn't mean you shouldn't look your best! We're from One, not Twelve!"

The kids dispersed, and Shine made his way across the room to meet Valor, who gave him a nod in greeting.

"You going to volunteer in that?" Shine asked, gestured to Valor's training uniform. His voice had so much volume, it echoed throughout the room. The entire center knew Valor planned to volunteer, so it was no big deal.

"Of course," Valor replied with a nod. "It doesn't have a logo, so the Capitol won't realize it comes from our so-called illegal training facilities, yet I think it still makes me look distinguished, I think."

Shine laughed, patting his friend on the back. "Of course. Hey, good luck today, man. I won't be able to say goodbye to you at the justice building since I have to make it back here so the most ambitious kiddos don't gripe about missing precious training time, but I want to wish you the best. I know you can kick some ass out there."

Valor smiled genuinely. "Thank you. I'll see you when I get back."

The men shook hands, then parted ways. Valor met his daughters outside the locker room, before the three of the set out for the reaping. The walk was short, only about ten minutes or so to the square. The girls walked behind them, chatting amiably. Despite being only half-sisters, the girls got along remarkably well outside of training. During training, though, they barely associated with each other. Valor figured it had something to do with the look of envy in Stone's eyes every time she witnessed her sister's talents.

To be standing in a line such as this for the first time in just over twenty years was an odd feeling for Valor. He felt good though, knowing he would soon have a second chance at his dream. "Next," the peacekeeper called when his turn came, and he proudly presented his name and age to the uniformed man at the table.

"Children ages ten and older must stand behind the ropes," the peacekeeper said as he pricked Valor's finger.

Valor glanced over to the area reserved for the ineligible citizens of One, the area he had stood in year after year after he passed reaping age and nodded. He then turned to his daughters. "See you after the reaping. You'll come to visit me, I hope."

The girls both nodded before separating to find their friends. Meanwhile, Valor took his place among the other fathers trying his best to stand as close to the front as possible and near the end of the row so he could dart out and race to the stage when the time came. Instead of fourteen sections like any other year, this year there were two, as the parents were only sorted by gender, not age, with mothers on the left and fathers on the right. He caught sight of Value, his ex wife, who caught his eye at the same time and glared at him. Valor scowled back. The pair had gotten married when their daughter Flair was a year old, and divorced around a year later. Their relationship had always been tense, but now it was even more so. There was no love there, never had been. Instead, there was only hate. He knew this must be hard on Flair, who alternated between her parents homes every week and had a strong relationship with them both, but he didn't care. They couldn't stand to be around each other anymore, and now that Flair was old enough to travel between their homes herself, they usually avoided each other.

On stage, the victors and the mayor were starting to take their places. Being a career district, One had no shortage of victors, five of the last twenty-five victors hailing from the district. The newest two, Unity Quisenberry of the ninety-third and Midas Karlan of the previous year were the mentors this year, which was ironic, as Valor had trained Midas himself. Unity had attended another training center before moving on to the main academy, but Valor knew of her. Flair and Midas attended the academy as well, though they stuck to training at the local center, the one at which Valor worked, as many trainees tended to do.

At the bottom of the stage, Valor caught a glance of young Midas being kissed on the cheek by a brown haired girl before turning bright red and giving her a smile and a nod before bouncing gleefully up the stairs. Valor's eyes widened when the girl who had planted a kiss on the nineteen-year-old victor was none other than _Flair._ He chuckled to himself. Oh boy, was that kid going to get a protective father talk when they were on the train.

Before he had a chance to decide what he was going to say to the boy once he encountered him, Mayor Gravity Stowers rose from his seat and picked up the microphone. He was a just mayor, well-liked and a respected leader. The man was as dumb as a box of rocks, Valor knew, as he has spoken with him once or twice. It was probably for the best, as the Capitol could keep him under their thumb better that way.

"Good morning, District One," Mayor Stowers said with a cheerful grin, "and welcome to the reaping of the one hundredth annual hunger games! I'm sure this year's tributes will make us proud!"

The crowd cheered, and Valor held his head up high. Of course he would bring pride to District One. How could he do anything else?

As usual, Mayor Stowers welcomed the escort, who showed the century old video Valor had seen a few dozen times. He waited patiently careful not to tune out. He had to pay attention if he wanted to be timely with his declaration to volunteer. Finally, the escort pranced to the reaping bowl and drew a name.

"Suave Wilkins!"

"Hell yeah!" a voice shouted, and an excited man began to sprint towards the stage as his family cheered. He should have known better though, as Valor and another man proclaimed in clear voices, "I volunteer!"

Suave did not want to give up his spot so easily and pushed the other volunteer to the ground. However, this only gave Valor an advantage, giving him time to bound up the stage in only a few strides.

"A volunteer!" The escort cooed. "What is your name, sir."

"Valor Acosta, your next victor" Valor announced proudly, then stood to the side.

"Fuck you, Valor!" Suave shouted, but he was ignored as the escort drew the next name.

"Ivory Spinel!"

The crowd parted for a young woman in a frilly pink dress. She looked around Flair's age, Valor noted, so young to be a mother. Ivory glanced around for a volunteer. Valor did the same. When no one called out, tears began to fall out of Ivory's furious blue eyes and she slowly moved towards the stage, still seeming to hold onto hope that someone would volunteer. As she stepped onto the stage, it became clear that no one was going to. For the first time in decades, District One did not have a female volunteer.

"Please," Ivory begged, tears flowing steadily down her face, ruining her make-up. "this isn't right! My daughter is only three weeks old! She's with my parents. Someone, please take my place! This is a career district!"

The district was silent, and Valor accepted that his district partner was not going to be a fellow volunteer as he had anticipated. However, he knew he shouldn't discard her just because she was young and had been reaped. Perhaps she was fully trained and capable and simply didn't want to leave her newborn. He would just have to wait and see.

"Well, then... " the escort said awkwardly, clearly thrown off by having a reaped tribute before her, "District One, I present to you your tributes, Valor Acosta and Ivory Spinel! Shake hands, you two!"

Valor reached out and gently took Ivory's hand, giving it a single, firm shake before letting go. Ivory, meanwhile, avoided his eyes the entire time. As per usual, the pair were then escorted into separate rooms of the Justice building, where Valor was to await his daughters' arrival. The room was spacious, yet cozy, decorated with the finest materials District One had to offer. Grinning to himself, Valor allowed himself to sink into the couch and waited for the door to open.

Flair and Stone entered the room together, neither of them as cheerful as he had hoped.

"You did it, Dad," Stone said, offering him a weak smile.

"Of course I did! Did you ever doubt me?"

Stone shook her head. "No, I didn't. Just… come home, alright? I already lost Mom, I can't lose you too."

His younger daughter through her arms around him in a tight hug, and his heart sank. Stone's mother, his beautiful wife, Gaza had passed away just eight months ago of stomach cancer. Unlike his feelings of hatred towards his first wife, Valor truly loved her, and losing her had left a painful, gaping hole in his heart.

"Sweetheart, of course I'm coming home. I still have what it takes to win, I promise. Trust me."

Stone gave her father a small nod before sliding one of her several bracelets off her wrist. "Here, for your token. If you want it."

"Oh, Stone, this is your favorite, isn't it?" The girl nodded. "I'd be honored to take it with me."

Stone then stepped back and let Flair have her moment with their father. Flair didn't have much to say, but her strong hug told him everything he needed to know. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, angel," Valor replied. "Both you girls. And Stone, I trust you to take care of yourself while I'm gone and Flair is at Value's but if you need anything, remember not to be afraid to go to your sister, one of the neighbor's, or Shine for help, yeah?"

Stone agreed, and after giving each daughter a kiss on the cheek, but girls departed. Valor expected no other visitors, so he wasn't surprised when no one else came until the escort invited him to board the train. This was it. Valor was finally going to the Capitol to start his journey towards becoming a victor.

* * *

 **Luciel "Lucy" Fororum, District Twelve female, 18 -** _ **grimbutnotalways**_

Her shelter wasn't much, but at least she was out of that hellhole they called an orphanage. Lucy had hightailed it out of that toxic environment as soon as she could. Now she lived alone, in a run down shack with a leaky roof in the middle of The Seam. Awake at the crack of dawn, Lucy went outside her tiny wooden shelter as soon as there was enough light to see her work. Sitting in the dirt, Lucy unrolled her current project and set it on the ground, placing two pebbles on the top corners to prevent the paper from blowing away. Then, she began to paint.

The painting looked similar to most of her others. The focus was fire, orange, hot, and mystifying, though not nearly as much as a real-life flame. Nothing on paper could mimic a real fire's terrifying, powerful qualities completely accurately, though the painting did come close. The buyers of her paintings seemed satisfied enough with the quality of her work, at least those rare few who could afford to pay even the smallest charge for the paintings or who weren't scared off by her horrific appearance. Lucy herself took a huge amount of pride in her paintings, as art was the only source of joy left in her life any more. Everything else had been destroyed.

Today would have been Lucy's last reaping. With the Quarter Quell twist, she didn't feel the least bit concerned, not that she gave much of a shit before anyway. If one wanted to be technical, it was true that Lucy had carried the spawn of the man she thought of as "a disgusting lump of Cole" for nine months in her womb, but after she gave birth, she hadn't even set eyes on the kid for longer than a second. She didn't know his name, his appearance, or his likes and dislikes. She didn't want to name him, hold him, nurse him, or even look at him longer than necessary. She only knew the baby was a he was because the healer had told her. Lucy could barely remember his birth date. She wanted to forget, and as a result, had handed him over to a childless couple who couldn't have children of their own. They were neighbors of hers once, back when she had a better place to call home, before she became an orphan. She hadn't had contact with them since they took the little bastard off her hands.

After hours of painting, a family passed by on the path, looking as dismal as ever. The three children were all probably under the age of ten, so they never had to worry about a reaping before. Now, it was for their mother's life that they had to fear for. The middle child, a girl of about six, tugged on her older brother's arm, pointing at Lucy. Together, they both stopped and stared. Lucy looked up and met the curious eyes of the little girl and the pitying eyes of her more mature brother. Lucy knew why they were staring. It wasn't because they liked her painting. That she could accept. Instead, they were looking at her face. The right side was fine, with her pale skin, blue eye, and long black hair, a common sight in District Twelve. The left side, however, was left burned and scarred, her eye pure white and blind. Even though she knew the cause of the stares, Lucy still despised them, having lived year after year being gazed upon with looks of disgust, fear, and pity.

"Well, what the fuck are you looking at?" Lucy barked at the children. "I'm a burn victim! Don't play with fire, kids."

The boy's eyes widened, while his sister gasped and hid behind her mother's skirts. The youngest child, a toddler balanced on his mother's hip, began to wail at the sudden shout. The mother glared at Lucy and quickly ushered her children away, leaving Lucy to go back to painting in peace. More and more people passed by as time went on, heading for the square, but Lucy ignored the stares. She had gotten a large enough dose of anger out of her system that all she wanted to do now was focus on her paintings. She would attend the reaping for the sole reason that it was illegal not to go, and Lucy wasn't keen on being whipped as punishment. She was simply procrastinating, pushing it off to the very last moment she could arrive without getting into trouble.

"Hey, Lucy!" A voice called, and she grimaced, knowing their was only one person who'd ever call her by her name in such a friendly, open tone.

Standing before her was a boy two years younger than herself, Tim or Terry or something along those lines. Really, she didn't give a shit. He was just some kid who for some reason decided his goal in life was to follow her around like a happy-go-lucky puppy. She was stumped as to why he liked her, but no matter how hard to try to ignore him, he never got the hint. One of these days, she was going to punch him in his giddy, smiling face. Maybe then the message would pass through his thick head.

"Are you ready for the reaping?" Tony chirped happily. How could he be so happy, even on Reaping Day? Lucy, as usual, ignored him.

"You should probably start walking soon. It's almost time," the kid said. Lucy washed off her brush.

"I really hope my parents don't get reaped. They're all I got," the kid continued as Lucy carefully carried her paintings and supplies to the shack. As she put everything away, the kid rambled on, not realizing that Lucy wasn't comprehending a word that came out of his mouth.

"Okay, well anyway, I should catch up to my folks. I told them I'd meet them there, but I said I wanted to stop by and say hi first. Bye, Lucy! See you at the reaping!"

The kid pranced off. Finally, he was gone. Lucy wasn't sure why he had stared so long in the first place. Finally alone, Lucy walked to the square, keeping her head down and doing her best to ignore the eyes of everyone around her. She headed towards the roped off area for the childless spectators, but was cut off by a peacekeeper.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Do you see a kid on me?" Lucy asked, glaring at the peacekeeper with her good eye. "I'm going to the sidelines to watch some people be sent to their deaths, as I am required to be here. Trust me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be."

"Everyone ages fourteen and older needs to at least check in to ensure you are indeed childless."

"What the hell? Are all the Districts doing this? This is ridiculous!"

"Don't know, don't care," said the peacekeeper. "This is how we're doing it."

Sourly, Lucy obliged. She wasn't in the mood for punishment today. The peacekeeper at the table pricked her finger and looked her up in the records of District Twelve citizens. "Alright, go stand with the eligible females.

No way. This was not happening. "Hell no, I won't. I'm no mother!"

The peacekeeper shrugged. "Says here you gave birth to a boy four years ago. Lumon Garris."

"I gave the damn kid away!"

"Doesn't matter. You gave birth, you're eligible. Now I suggest you do as you're told unless you want trouble."

Lucy decided not to push the matter. She may be still eligible after all, but so what? This was just like a normal year. Just like any other year, this reaping would be her last. Just like any other year, she would not be reaped.

The mayor stepped up to the microphone just as Lucy took her place in the crowd of mothers. He looked nervous, as he had young kids himself. Lucy tuned out his speech, the video, and anything the dipshit escort had to say. She only tuned back in when she heard the female's name being called.

"Luciel Fororum? Are you out there?"

 _No. No way._ She wasn't even a mother. "Fuck no!" Lucy snapped. "No way in hell I'm going up there." She crossed her arms, staying putting. Her behavior was stupid and pointless she knew, but like many things now days, she didn't give a shit. A peacekeeper emerged from behind her, the crowd creating a path for him He grabbed her arm, and as a result she kneed him again. No man would ever touch her again, not after what Cole did to her. She learned her lesson long ago. With the peacekeeper on the ground, she marched up to the stage on her own.

"Oh my, so young... " the escort said as Lucy reached the stage. "How old are you, dear?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Lucy snarled. "I gave birth at fourteen. The kid I gave away is close to four now. Do the math, lady, if you can."

"Rude," the escort scolded, although she clearly wanted to be done with the conversation. "Now for the _gentleman_."

Lucy rolled her eyes. It was as if the escort believed emphasizing gentleman would grant her a more agreeable tribute.

"Joshua Yates!"

"Dad!" Shouted a girl of about ten years old as a pale man stepped out of the crowd. She ducked underneath the ropes, breaking free of her older sister's grasp, and ran towards the man. Her little brother trailed after her, causing a crying man to step out of line to hold the children back. Joshua had tears streaming down his face by this point, slowly scuffling towards the stage as a peacekeeper tried to keep things under control. By the time Joshua took his place next to Lucy, he was quivering with sobs.

"Lucy and Joshua, shake hands!" the escort commanded, and the pair did so, avoiding each other's eyes. The peacekeepers escorted them inside the justice building, with Lucy walking on her own free will to avoid being grabbed again. Once in the room, she looked around for something to break. There wasn't much, so she took a satin pillow off the couch and threw it against the door. To her surprise, the door opened as the pillow fell to the floor.

It was her shadow, what's-his-face. Okay, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised. Of course the creep would visit her here.

"Uh, hey," he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry… for uh… you being reaped."

Lucy remained silent, sitting on the couch.

"I didn't know you were a mom."

"I'm not," she replied with a scowl.

"Oh, right," he said. To himself, he muttered. "Alright, Tommy, stop making things worse."

The two of them remained in silence, but of course, Tommy had to break it. "Look, Lucy, I believe in you. You can win. I bet a lot of these parents are going to be old and weak, and you're young. I mean, yeah, we don't have any victors left after the last quell, but you'll be okay. You can make it. You've gone through so much already, you can do this too."

Lucy wanted to ignore him, but she knew if she did he'd just keep on talking until it was time to board the train, so she had to say something. "Just leave."

Tommy looked hurt. "Oh, um… Okay. Good luck, Lucy." He quietly slipped out the door, and the escort came to retrieve Lucy not long after. This was going to be hell. Although, really, why should she expect anything different?

 **Author's note: I forgot to mention this, but I am also accepting escort submissions, which is why these two are rather simple at the moment. There are eight escort spaces remaining, and five tributes (District Three male, District Five female, District Six male, and both Eights) so if you still want to submit, go ahead and do so. :)**

 **And now, some typical SYOT questions, which you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but can if you want.**

 **Opinions on Valor and Lucy?**

 **Opinions on the small glimpses you saw of their district partners?**

 **Any suggestions or things you'd like to see?**


	4. Chapter 2: Reapings, Districts 2 and 11

**Author's Note: Thank you for all those kind words in the reviews! They truly warm my heart! Also, thank you to CelticGames4 for Justus and Circe, MidnightRaven323 for Arista, and CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean for Victor. Finally, thanks to grimbutnotalways and RageHer0 for Amare and Gloria respectfully.**

 **Chapter 2: Districts Two and Eleven Reapings**

 **Justus Fiore, District Two male, 34 -** _ **CelticGames4**_

Justus awoke bright and early and grinned to himself. He had been waiting for this day ever since the quell was announced two months ago, and he was beyond ready. This time, nothing would stand in his way. He leapt out of bed with the energy of a twelve year old, gritting his teeth as his leg bent in an awkward direction, straining his sensitive muscle. Justus swore to himself. He had to ignore the pain. If he showed any weakness at all, he wouldn't make it out of the arena. Being a career, a _male_ career from District Two at that, he couldn't show weakness. He mentally scolded himself. He had to try harder. Justus expected nothing less than perfection from his family, and that included himself.

Limping slightly to the light switch, Justus flicked on the light attached to the overhead ceiling fan that hung in the room he shared with his wife, Lenora. She groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the bright light.

"Rise and shine, Lenora! It's Reaping Day!" Not wasting another second, Justus made his way to the shower across the hall, limping a bit less than before. Lenora would do her duty as a obedient housewife to start breakfast and wake the children while her husband prepared himself to look his best before the reaping. His sped through his shower, but took his time making himself look presentable. He combed his dark blonde hair and shaved his stubble, a task he usually put off until it was absolutely necessary. He put on the best outfit he owned, which included a white shirt, dark brown dress pants, a beige suit coat, and of course, a black tie. When Justus finally was satisfied that his appearance was impeccable, he ventured downstairs to enjoy his last breakfast as a normal District Two trainer rather than a victor. He was thankful work was optional today, as he didn't feel like being bothered with the kids at his training center. After today, he'd never have to step foot in that building again for the rest of his life, unless he felt like watching his children or gracing the trainees with his presence and advice.

As he arrived in the kitchen, Justus was greeted by the delicious smell of the bacon and eggs waiting for him. Not long after he sat down, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and glanced up to see his seven year old son, Clarus. The boy looked remarkably like his father, with the same blonde hair and brown eyes. "Ah, Clarus," Justus greeted his son. "You are going to training as soon as the reapings are over, aren't you? I don't see your training bag."

"Do I have to?" Clarus mutters. "You're going to be a victor anyway."

"Yes, of course you do!" Justus snapped. "You're a Fiore! Clarus Gallus Fiore, named after Gallus Catalani, victor of the 92nd Hunger Games, because he was a winner, and you will be too. You're not good enough, yet, though, not with that attitude and skill level you currently possess. You are going to volunteer in ten or eleven years, or you might as well not be a Fiore at all!"

Clarus stared down as his plate, not wanting to argue with his father. Meanwhile, Justus took a sip of coffee, carrying on with his breakfast. He was strict with his children, but it would all be for the best. They would come out stronger after they became victors, and one day, all three of them would thank him. In his eyes, he couldn't be a better parent to his children.

After another minute or so, Justus's oldest, twelve year old Primitiva Enobaria Fiore, joined her father and brother in the kitchen. Justus scowled as she entered the room. She was wearing a simple, baby blue dress that reached her knees, and her long hair was pulled into two pigtails tied with ribbons. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"My reaping clothes," Primitiva said softly, her soft green eyes that she had inherited from her mother wary. "What's wrong with them?"

"You look like a little girl!" Justus snapped. "You're hopeless! So fucking incompetent that you can't even dress like a victor! You'll never be able to make it out of the arena."

"Stop! I'm a twelve year old girl, not a victor!" Primitiva cried, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Justus shook his head. "Someday, you'll understand." His attention was diverted when he caught sight of Lenora carrying one-year-old Dominicus Talon. Justus grinned broadly at the little boy. "Ah, there's my littlest victor! Give him to me, Lenora."

Lenora did so, before silently sitting down to eat her breakfast. Meanwhile, Justus bounced the giggling baby on his knee while his older children looked on with jealousy and sadness in their eyes. While Justus was full of nothing but love and pride for his youngest child, it would only be about four or five years before Dominicus too, would be under the enormous amount of pressure his father laid upon his older siblings.

"How's my little victor?" Justus cooed, causing the baby to giggle even harder. "One day we're you're big and strong, you will follow in Daddy's footsteps! That's right, Dominicus, yes you will."

The family ate the rest of their breakfast in near silence, except for occasional boasting or criticism from Justus. The patriarch of the family watched as Lenora and Primitiva cleared the dishes before lightly pounding his fist on the table to get his family's attention. "Alright, Fiores! Out the door!"

Primitiva and Clarus hurried out the door, but Justus decided to keep Lenora back for a moment. "A word, Lenora?" She stopped in the doorway, glancing back at him apprehensively. Justus strolled over to her, leaning in as close as he could without pinning Dominicus between them.

"Don't you dare volunteer for the mothers," Justus growled, knowing his wife had planned to volunteer when she was eighteen but had been prevented from doing so due to becoming pregnant with their daughter. "If you do, I won't hesitate to kill you. Is that understood?"

Lenora nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it." She meant her words. Not only did she not to face Justus's wrath, she also couldn't bare to leave her children orphans if by chance Justus did not come home a victor.

Justus gave a firm nod before handing Dominicus off to his mother and parading out the door. He walked with his head held high, wanting to display a look of confidence and intimidation to everyone who noticed him stride by. As he neared the square, he spotted a peacekeeper directing the swarm of people and scowled. It was because of a peacekeeper that he had lost his opportunity to volunteer. All he had done was say something along the lines of "make way, I'm a future victor! Show some respect!" as he passed by a lower-ranking peacekeeper he had no interest in remembering the name of. He was doing nothing more than being a sarcastic, flippant teenager. The damn peacekeeper didn't see it that way, and he overreacted by shooting the volunteer-to-be in the lower leg, right in his calf, disabling him from completing his dream. It didn't matter though, not now. At the time, it was like the end of the world, but now, he was getting a second chance. This time around, he would be on his best behavior, until he at least arrived in the Capitol.

As Justus and Lenora joined the line to check in, Primitiva and Clarus branched off to find their friends along the sidelines. As he waited, Justus tapped his foot impatiently until his turn to check in finally arrived. After having his finger pricked for the first time in sixteen years, Justus proudly pushed his way to a desirable place in the crowd. He had intentionally arrived early, which allowed him a spot close to the stage. The disadvantage of his early arrival, though, was that he had to stand around for almost forty-five minutes as he waited for the mayor to come to the stage. After that, it took another five minutes for the escort, Amare Star, to approach the podium and play the ancient video. Justus rolled his eyes as the man rambled on and on. Amare was a showy man, with bright yellow, spiky hair and lightning bolt earrings. He had far too much energy for Justus's tastes, but if that energy aided him in his victory rather than hindered him, he could tolerate it. Choosing to ignore the escort, Justus's eyes skimmed over the long line of victors. Far too many years had passed since District Two's last victor, Gallus Catalani, won the 92nd Hunger Games. The past fourteen tributes District Two had offered to the Games had failed miserably, never making it further than third place, and Justus planned on breaking the dishonorable losing streak.

The loud, clear voice of Amare brought Justus out of his thoughts. "Good morning District Two! Are you ready to get this party started?" The crowd roared with cheers and applause and Amare applauded along with them with a grin on his face. "Of course you are! You never disappoint me with your energy and enthusiasm! You're just like me, after all! So, without further ado, let's draw the name of our stunning, beautiful mother!"

Amare dug around in the female's bowl before plucking out a single name. "Let's hear it for… Arista Lazuli!"

The crowd applauded politely, as was custom. Justus didn't bother looking around for the woman, as he was certain his district partner was going to be a volunteer. However, after the applause died down, silence lingered behind. Stunned and full of rage at the lack of honorable women in the district this year, Justus watched as a fair-skinned woman with ash brown hair walked to the stage. Despite having an angry look in her eyes, her head was held high in confidence. Once on stage, she glared at the mayor's bodyguard who stood regally near the mayor's side, her eyes full of cold accusation. The bodyguard only smirked at her in response. Justus had no time to ponder about the pair's exchange. He had to focus on preparing to volunteer.

"What? No volunteers?" Amare questioned, glancing around. "How odd. Oh well, no matter! District Two will nevertheless be a powerful force as usual! Now, let's select our fierce, impressive father… Julian Augustus!"

"I volunteer!" Justus shouted, but his voice wasn't alone. A few rows back, he spotted Callius Patterson rushing forward and fought back the urge to groan. Of course, how could he had forgotten that he would have competition? Back in the day when they we both teenagers, Justus and Patterson had been rivals. When Justus lost his opportunity to volunteer, he came across Patterson once again, as they both were hired as trainers at the same training center. Eventually, the two men became good friends. However, ever since the Quell was announced, their friendship had been shattered when they discovered that they both planned to volunteer. Now, instead of rushing towards the stage, Justus strode straight towards Patterson and balling his fist, punched his old friend right on the nose, crushing the bones underneath. Patterson roared in anger and pain, stumbling back as he clutched his nose. Justus smirked triumphantly, and with no other competition in sight, marched to the stage, doing his best to cover up his limp.

"Whoa! Such a powerful punch there! You're sure to be a force to be reckoned with!" Amare exclaimed. "What's your name, sir?"

"Justus Fiore!" Justus announced proudly into the microphone. "Your next victor!"

"Congratulations, Mr. Fiore! It's a pleasure to escort you to the Capitol! Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give Justus and Arista a round of applause! Shake hands, tributes!"

Justus sized up his district partner, attempting to strike intimidation into her. Arista didn't seem fazed at all, however, and continued her sophisticated expression as her hazel eyes betrayed no emotions. She may have been reaped, but she still seemed to have the air of a career around her, so Justus supposed he couldn't really complain just yet.

Eventually, the applause died down, and Justus was escorted to his visiting room in the justice building. Grinning from ear to ear, he took a seat in a large, velvet arm chair. As expected, his family soon entered as his first visitors.

"You see, children, that's how it's done!" Justus boasted as soon as his entire family was in the room. "The next time you see me, I'll be a victor. That being said, you are to continue your training. I plan to start an entire dynasty of victors. I don't want to hear of you two skipping even a minute of training while I'm gone. Am I clear."

"Yes sir," Primitiva said, nodding her head slightly. Clarus, however seemed to be drifting off into his own world.

"Clarus!" Justus barked. "Am I clear?"

Clarus nodded quickly. "Yes sir!" he chimed automatically, although he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone for certain what his father had said.

"Good," he said. "Lenora, you know what's expected of you."

She nodded, and shifted their sleeping son in her arms. "Of course."

His family left, and no one else came to visit. When the door opened again, Justus glanced over in curiosity, but realized it was only the yellow-haired escorted. "Alright then, Justus, we're off to see the the Capitol, the wonder, glorious Capitol!"

Justus grinned and got to his feet. His day had finally come, and once he was in the Capitol, he was going to blow them away.

* * *

 **Victor Mackall, District Eleven male, 40, District Eleven male - CrissKenobie-the-Numerorean**

If there was anything good about Reaping Day, Victor would have to admit that it would have to be the fact that for once, he had the day off. A day off was a once a year opportunity, occurring only on Reaping Day. While the children of reaping age and their parents feared the day year after year, Victor had never been too concerned. Even now, with himself, his wife and his sister both being eligible, he wasn't too fearful. They had both survived seven reapings as teenagers, and they would survive this one as well. To Victor, Reaping Day meant a day where he didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn to get to work. It meant that he didn't have to spend hours lugging baskets of fruit from the trees to the monstrous trucks, straining his back in the process. It was just as well that Reaping Day was today, as Victor's back ached enough as it was, and being forced to work in such conditions, along with the extreme heat wave that had rolled in, would have been torture. So today, instead of working, Victor had the luxury of lying on the couch.

"Hi, sweetheart. How's your back feeling?" asked his wife, Alison, as she waddled into the room.

"Could be better," Victor grumbled, gazing up at his wife.

Alison gave a sympathetic sigh. "Oh, I'm sorry. Want a back rub?"

Victor smiled. "Yes, of course. Thank you, my dear." Grunting, Victor sat up to allow his wife to take her place beside him. He sighed in contentment as he felt her hands running up and down his back, massaging his spine. Alison had been suffering from back pain herself recently, a symptom of being eight months pregnant. Yet, she always put his needs first. No matter what, Alison always gave Victor the treatment he deserved, which of course, was only the best.

Victor was very much in love with his wife. She may have been different in her appearance from Victor and the rest of his family, with her blonde hair and fair skin, which contrasted Victor's black hair and brown skin. He was fairly tall and wiry, standing at about five-foot-ten, while she was petite, not much taller than five feet even. That didn't matter to Victor, though. The couple had been married for a year, and had dated for years before then. As they were more well-off than many other families in Eleven, life was blissful.

"Time for lunch," Victor's older step sister, Heidi, called from the kitchen. Heidi had been happily married to the love of her life, until he passed away a few years previous. Not wanting to live alone with her son, Frank, a boy who's life was affected by autism, Heidi had moved in with Victor and Alison.

"Thank you, Heidi," Victor said, slowly getting to his feet. He headed to the kitchen with Alison at his heels and sat at the table. His sister and nephew were waiting for them, along with bowls of soup and slices of bread. Victor dug into his meal, but was soon interrupted by a little foot hitting his leg repeatedly in a rhythmic fashion.

"Frank," Victor said with a sigh, trying to get the boy's attention. "Frank."

Frank didn't seem to hear him. Instead, the nine-year old boy continued to swing his legs, humming the same three notes over and over. Unsure how to handle his nephew, Victor glanced at his sister for help.

"Frank," Heidi said gently, leaning in towards the boy.. "Frank, listen please."

Finally, the boy looked up at his mother. "Hm?"

"I need you to stop swinging your legs. You're kicking Uncle Victor."

"Nuh-uh," Frank said, shaking his head. "Frank can't."

"Well, then scootch over this way," Heidi said, pulling Frank's chair away from Victor. "Is that better, Victor?"

Victor nodded, grateful the situation had faded away without a tantrum from Frank. Despite having adopted Frank as his own six months ago, becoming his second legal guardian, he never could connect with the boy. Although he loved Frank, as any uncle loves a nephew, he didn't know how to interact with him. That was the women's job. Heidi and Alison were both good with Frank, but Victor avoided being left alone with him whenever he could. He didn't know how to handle a boy who lived in his own world. As a result, he and Frank weren't close, but he was satisfied with that. Frank had his mother and his aunt to look after him, and that was enough.

"Look at the time," Victor said, glancing at the clock as he finished his soup. "It's already a quarter past twelve! The reapings begin at half past one, and I can recall the walk taking exactly forty-two minutes last year, so we had better leave soon."

The women nodded and began to clean up. Alison cleared the dishes, while Heidi helped Frank put on his shoes. Within minutes, the little family was out the door.

Going anywhere with Frank was always a challenge. Each time, he looked as though he had never stepped foot outside before. He walked slowly, captivated by nature, stopping frequently to stare at any flower, stick, or stone he found interesting. Victor estimated that they could have arrived at the square a good eleven minutes faster if only Frank was still small enough to be carried by Heidi. Eventually, though, the family arrived where they needed to be, which was really all that mattered.

"Hello, Victor! Alison, Heidi!" Glancing towards the voice, Victor saw his two closest friends strolling towards them. Jason, a jolly, slightly plump man waved ruefully, his normally light-hearted voice full of concern. Next to him, Victor's best friend Aaron managed a weak smile. Clearly, his friends were more concerned about the reaping than he was.

"You ready?" Aaron asked, his deep voice grave.

Victor nodded. "It's just another reaping. I won't be reaped. The world still owes me, remember? I haven't lived out my worth yet."

Aaron nodded slightly, used to Victor's egotistical idea of self-importance. "I sure hope you're right. I'd get ready if I were you. It's almost your turn."

Victor allowed his ladies to go first, and when his turn was over, he kissed them both goodbye at Alison's insistence. Then, he followed his friends into the waiting, anxious crowd.

The mayor, a man of few words, didn't take long to call the escort to the podium. Gloria Chase, a tall woman in her mid-twenties, was wearing a bright orange skirt and a dark orange long sleeved shirt, the same outfit she wore every year since she had starting escorting in Eleven since the Ninety-seventh Games.

"Good afternoon, District Eleven," Gloria said, her blue eyes alight with enthusiasm. "It is _such_ a pleasure to be in this sunny district once again this year! Let's watch our special video so we can on with the reaping."

Looking around, Victor noticed that most of the parents in the crowd seemed bored out of their minds. Even Thorne Stanton, District Eleven's only living victor, rested his head in his hand, looking as though he could fall asleep if the escort didn't hurry up. Somehow, everyone was still awake by the time the video ended and Gloria happily trotted to the women's bowl. "Let's see… Circe Banks!"

No one moved for a moment, but soon enough, the group of women parted, allowing Victor to see a sobbing woman let go of another woman's hand. With their tall, thin stature, very curly hair and dark skin, Victor could only assume that the pair were sisters. As she climbed the stage, Circe continued to sob, wiping her tears away only half-heartedly.

"Oh, now don't cry, Circe," Gloria said, patting the older woman on the back. "It's alright. I believe in you."

Gloria's words did no good, however, and sighing slightly, she moved on to the men's bowl. "Alright, let's find our male tribute. Victor Mackall!"

Victor jumped a little when he heard her words. Did Gloria just say his name? Had he just been reaped? Dumbfounded, Victor stood in place, staring at Gloria until he heard his wife's voice.

"Victor!" She called to him, pushing her way through the women's section as tears streamed down her face. Before she could take even a dozen steps, a peacekeeper barricaded her path. When two more peacekeepers began marching towards him, Victor took it as a sign to move, straight to the stage. Once there, reality slapped him in the face, and like his district partner, he too, burst into tears.

"Oh, dear," Gloria said, her face falling. "Not you too. Please don't give up you two, you can do this. Now, shake hands, and then you can say your goodbyes."

This only made Victor sob harder. He couldn't go to the Games. He couldn't leave his family, and he certainly did not want to die. Shakingly, he reached out and took Circe's frail hand, gently shaking it as he was told. Then, a peacekeeper roughly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the Justice building. The peacekeeper gave him and firm shove, and Victor stumbled into the room. He stood in one place, quivering until the door opened again and his wife, sister, and nephew filed in.

"Oh, Victor," Alison sighed, voice quivering. She wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together "I'm so sorry. Come home to me. Y-you still have to meet our baby."

"How am I supposed to do that, exactly? I'm probably going to be one of the oldest there. Unlike most years, advanced years is not a good thing, not when you are forty."

"You're smart," said Heidi. " You know more facts than anyone else I know. You'll figure something out."

"I don't think book sense will help me in the arena," said Victor, "but I'll try my best."

Both women hugged him tightly, and they stayed in each other's embrace for several minutes. Then, he kissed them all goodbye, even Frank, who wiggled and whined in protest. Then, they were gone, just like that. Less than a minute later, Aaron and Jason entered the room together.

"Hey, Victor. Doing alright?" Jason asked.

"Of course not," Aaron grumbled. "The man has been reaped. And here I thought we were all safe."

"Why me?" Victor whimpered. "I don't deserve to die. This can't be what the world has meant for me to be."

"Well, then, you just have to make it home," said Jason. "Like the escort said, don't give up yet."

"I won't," Victor said. "Not yet."

The three men stood around in awkwardness, talking about anything from the weather to good times in their past. Anything but the Games suited Victor. Too soon, visiting time ended, and Victor's friends were lead away, causing him to deal with reality alone.

 **Author's note: Hey guys! A few things. First off, tribute submissions are full, unless you are the one author who has requested I keep the Five Female open until you could submit but have not yet sent in your form (If that is you, please do so ASAP.) I do have two submitters wanting to submit to that spot, so once I get the other form, they will compete for the spot. Thanks to everyone who has submitted! This SYOT would not be possible without you!**

 **Secondly, if you have just stumbled across this SYOT now and want to submit, it is not too late to submit escorts. I still need escorts for Districts Six, Eight, Nine, and Twelve. Thank you for those as well. :)**

 **Finally, I am betaing for the fabulous david12341, who is writing an SYOT. It is a quarter quell in which twelve normal aged tributes are paired with a five to eleven year old from their district, and if their child dies, so do they, and vice versa. He still needs some tributes, especially little ones in the five to eleven year old range, so if that interests you, go submit to him. In addition, my friend Wetstar still has a few spots in their partial SYOT "Magnets" as well, so check that out as well.**

 **Oops, that wasn't finally, I lied. The real "finally" is that the end of my first college year has been chaotic, but it's almost done. With final exams starting this Friday, and move out weekend being next Saturday, I should have more time on my hands (even though I do have to get a summer job). So expect another update coming hopefully the second week of May, or soon after.**

 **If you made it this far, thank you for reading my super long A/N. :)**


	5. Chapter 3: Reapings, Districts 3 and 10

Thank **you to The Emerald Queen 88 for Niels, for Volustre, Wetstar for Lil, and calebbeers21 for Hector. Also, thanks to CrissKenobie-theNumerorean for Candy and for Lysbeth.**

 **Chapter 3: Districts 3 and 10 Reapings**

 **Niels Bundar, District Three male, 51 - The Emerald Queen 88**

When Niels entered his kitchen at around eight in the morning on reaping day, he found his daughter, Addilyn, sitting at the table, an empty bowl pushed to the side.

"Hi, Dad," the ten-year-old said cheerfully, looking up from the piece of paper she was doodling on.

"There you are! I looked in your bed only to find you missing! I thought you disappeared!" Niels joked.

His daughter giggled. "Yeah, totally Dad. I just turned invisible in the middle of the night."

Niels gasped in mock surprise. "I don't believe it! You're right! I don't see you anyway!"

Niels words sent Addilyn into more giggles, causing him to join in. He was thankful he had such an easy-going relationship with his daughter. Some parents in District Three rather even had time to spend fifteen minutes with their children, and as a result had only minimal bonds with them, if at all. As a middle class Capitol scientist, he had plenty of opportunities to develop strong relationships with both Addilyn and his seventeen-year-old son, Dean.

"So, Dad, what are you working on now?" Addilyn asked as Niels made himself a bowl of oatmeal. Not being able to hold himself back after being prompted, Niels launched into an animated description of his latest invention. Partway through, he was distracted by Dean's voice greeting him and Addilyn before leaving the kitchen again.

"Whoa, Dean! Wait a minute!"

Dean's head appeared in the doorway again. "Yes, Dad?"

"What's the hurry? You have plenty of time."

"Oh, I know," Dean replied. "I was just going to the Greenes' before the reaping. Ashley said her mother has been feeling really anxious lately."

Niels smiled fondly at the mention of his son's best friend. Ashley was a lovely girl, sweet and caring. She and Dean would make a wonderful couple someday, something Niels had been waiting years for. As of yet, though, the pair were still close friends.

"Oh, good," Niels said cheerfully. "Speaking of Ashley, when are you going to ask her out?"

Addilyn grinned, but Dean wasn't nearly as amused. Niels watched as his son's ears brightened. "Dad! She's my friend."

Niels shrugged, still smiling. "I'm just saying. Ashley's a great girl. You honestly couldn't find a girl better than her."

Dean shook his head, embarrassed at his father's behavior. "Sure, Dad. I'll see you after the reaping, alright? Bye, Addilyn." With a final wave, Dean headed out the door.

"I suppose we should start head out soon, too," Niels said to his daughter around ten minutes after Dean left.

Addilyn sighed. "Yeah."

"Hey, cheer up!" Niels said, ruffling Addilyn's blonde hair. "Maybe after the reaping we can go buy some candy! A special treat!"

Addilyn laughed. "Dad, you love candy more than any little kid I know."

Niels grinned. "Well, who wouldn't? It's delicious!"

Father and daughter put away the dishes and headed out the door, Niels hair messy and uncombed. Since Dean had left, it was just the two of them. Five years ago, the Bundar's had lost their wife and mother, Nova, to a serious heart condition. Although Niels had made enough money to feed his family, the Capitolite medicine needed to heal Nova was far out of reach, and she had passed away on a warm spring day. Losing her had been devastating for the family, but Niels knew he had to hold himself together for the good of his children. Addilyn, being only five at the time, had so few memories of her mother, so Niels tried his hardest to be the best parent he could for his children.

Upon arriving at the Justice Building, Addilyn gave her father a hug before separating from him to find her friends. As Niels joined the line, he met up with his own friends. Myles Denards and Danny Spencer were two men Niels worked with, and both were his age. Niels had known Myles since high school, and the two men were best friends. When both were hired to be scientists because of their high IQs, the pair met Danny, and their duo became a trio.

"Myles, what are you doing here? Why are you standing in line and not in the crowd of other non-eligible people?" Niels asked. Myles's children were adults now, his youngest being nineteen, and therefore, he was safe from the reaping. He'd never have to worry about another reaping again until he had grandchildren.

"I'm here for the party," Myles said sarcastically. "I'm giving you both moral support.

"Thanks," Niels said. "We'll be fine, though. There's nothing to worry about."

Danny, meanwhile, didn't say a word. They man didn't talk much, which contrasted widely with Niels lively outlook. Myles often said that they balanced each other out well, and that he was caught in the middle. Niels supposed that was why their friendship worked so well.

After their fingers were pricked, Niels and Danny parted ways from Myles. Neither of them spoke as they waited for the reaping to begin. Bored, Niels gazed upon the stage and saw District Three's two living victors. Not long ago, there had been three of them. The previous winter, Newton Lindell, the twenty-one-year-old victor of the ninety-sixth Hunger Games had taken his own life. Niels figured the life of a victor must have been destructive, as Plato Salsburg, an older victor in his mid-sixties, didn't look any better off. He was confined to a wheelchair, and currently seemed as though he was about to fall asleep. Only Argon Humphrey, victor of the eighty-second Games appeared well-off. He sat straight and tall, looking aristocratic as he stared straight out in front of him. Argon was one of the most talked about victors, with rumors about his activities in the Capitol invading not just District Three, but even the whole of Panem, as Niels had heard from his more gossipy coworkers.

The escort came to the center of the stage as soon as the video ended, and Niels couldn't help but grin to himself. Her name, coincidentally enough, was Candy. She was in her late thirties or early forties, and had been escorting for almost twenty years, having been in District Three for the past eleven. Rumor had it that she had been offered a career position a few years back, but had refused to take it, loving the intelligence and creativity the district was known for. Candy was a tall, muscular woman, with long white hair, purple eyes, and black, wispy tattoos stretching the length of her arms.

"Hello, District Three," Candy cooed to the crowd. "I am so happy to be back in your wonderful district again. It's such a pleasure, as always. As always, let's start with our female."

Candy strolls over to the females' bowl, heels clicked daintily against the stage. She dips her hand into the bowl and calls a name. "Volustre Eckhart!"

A woman around thirty years old pushes through the crowd, rushing towards the stage as fast as she could without running. A little girl of about six or seven years old struggled in the arms of another woman, screaming for her mother. The woman didn't look back, though, probably trying to seem strong for her little girl. Once she was on stage, Niels could see that Volustre was trembling, hugging herself tightly as if trying to keep herself warm, despite the summer heat. His heart broke for the young mother, and he hoped she could come home to her child. Of course, that would mean twenty-three other parents would have to leave their kids forever. The thought was too much for Niels to bare.

"Niels Bundar!" The sound of his name slipping out of the escort's name jolted Niels back to reality. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, then looked around anxiously, considering the possiblity that someone could volunteer. Niels knew that was ridiculous, though. No one in District Three volunteered, especially not when they had children to raise. With worry and dread coursing through his veins and plaguing his thoughts, Niels gingerly stepped forward, not even bothering to put on a calm face. Niels remained in a slight daze as Candy reintroduced them to the audience. He and Volustre shook hands, and the pair were brought inside the justice building for goodbyes.

Goodbyes. His children. His children couldn't lose him. Niels was fairly confident that they would be alright without him, as Dean was seventeen and fully capable of getting a stable job to support himself and Addilyn. However, that didn't mean he wanted to leave them. The children had already lost Nova. How was it fair that now they might lose their father, too? Niels swallowed hard, wanting to cry. He wouldn't allow tears to flow, though. He had to stay strong for Dean and Addilyn.

As expected, the door flew opened, and Addilyn burst in, followed by her older brother. "Dad! You have to come home!" his little girl cried, throwing her arms around him. "You're so smart. You can get out, I know it!"

"I'll come out, Addilyn. We still have to go to the candy store." Niels tried to joke, but his effort was half-hearted. He found it hard to do so when he was about to leave his children, possibly forever.

Addilyn didn't reply. Instead, she buried her head in his chest. Niels held her in his arms, stroking her hair.

"Don't worry, Dad," Dean murmured sadly. "I'll take care of her."

"Don't say that like he's not coming home, Dean!" Addilyn cried, looking up. "He will."

"Doesn't mean I won't take care of you while he's gone," Dean replied.

"I know you will," said Niels. "Take care of each other, yeah?"

Addilyn nodded. "Do you have a token?"

"I'll take my wedding ring," Niels said, gazing at the gold band on his finger. "I wouldn't take anything else."

All too soon, his children were pried from the room, and the peacekeepers allowed the next visitors in. The three guests were his closest friends, as well as Astin Hardins, the young man who worked for him, mostly as a delivery boy.

"I can't believe it," Myles said gruffly. "How could it be you? We've survived countless reapings, only to lose you now? Very funny, Capitol."

"We haven't lost him yet!" Astin said, voice full of hope. "Niels is brilliant! He can make it out! Don't doubt him!"

"I don't doubt him," Myles said with a sigh. "I just doubt his odds. He's fifty-one, probably one of the oldest that will be in there."

"I-I can't do it," Niels said, his voice quivering with uncertainty. "I can outsmart them."

The visit was brief, but encouraging. Just their presence helped Niels relax, even if it was just a little bit, The conversation turned away from the Games. Then, they too, were escorted from the room. "Don't worry," Niels called after his friends. "You haven't seen the last of me yet."

Candy poked her head into the door. "Niels, hun. It's time to go."

Niels nodded disdainfully, and followed the escort to the train.

* * *

 **Lil Carey, District Ten female, 26 - Wetstar**

"Mommy Lil!" the sweet voice of four-year-old Jing called out to Lil as she walked the dusty path towards the farmhouse. Lil smiled lovingly at her step-daughter, pausing briefly to allow the small girl to catch up. "Mommy Lil, can I help carry the eggs, pretty please?"

"Alright, just one," Lil said, handing Jing a light brown egg. "Be very careful, though. Don't run with it."

"Okay," Jing said with a giggle, gently cradling the egg in both hands. Lil smiled, reminiscing the first time she had allowed Jing to carry eggs. The little girl had forgotten just how fragile eggs were as she ran across the chicken coop to meet Lil, dropping about half of the small collection of eggs nestled in her tiny arms. After a gentle reminder that the eggs were valuable and needed to be carried with care, Lil couldn't stay mad at Jing for long. Although Jing was a magnet for trouble, she was adorable, and Lil loved her as much as she loved her biological daughter, one-year-old Jenna.

"Mommy!" Jing called gleefully as Lil opened the door. "Mommy Lil let me carry an egg!"

Ling, Lil's wife and Jing's biological mother beamed at her, looking up from where she was changing Jenna. "Did she now? Well, I bet you took very good care of that egg."

"Yes, Mommy!" Jing said. "I did!"

"Good girl," Ling said, picking up a wiggling, squealing Jenna. "You did a great job."

"You did," Lil agreed. "Can you come bring it into the kitchen so I can put it with the others?"

Jing nodded, and did as she was told. "Can I go play outside now?"

"Yes, but don't go too far," Lil said. "We have to go to the Justice Building soon and you'll need to put on your dress."

Jing skipped off and Lil sighed in relief. She was thankful Jing and Jenna were both too young to understand why they had to take the eight mile journey to the center of the district. They didn't know that their mommies were in jeopardy of being reaped today.

Lil shuddered. She couldn't worry about Ling or herself being reaped. There was no good in worrying over something that probably wouldn't happen. It was, after all, just a waste of energy. She and Ling would be fine.

Lil walked back into the main room to find Ling tickling Jenna, glancing up periodically to glance out the window, assuring herself that Jing was playing safely. Lil smiled as she watched her wife and daughter. Ling looked truly beautiful in that moment, as she always did. Lil knew she was being sappy, but she didn't care. That's the kind of couple she and Ling were, sappy and romantic. Lil wouldn't have it any other way though. The two women had known each other ever since Lil began working on the farm, back when Ling's parents still owned it, but they hadn't become close until Lil's ex-boyfriend, Miron had left her. The began dating about a month before Jenna was born, and had been married for around a year and a half now. It was a life of bliss, at least as much as it could be in an outer district.

Taking a few steps across the room, Lil wrapped her arms around Ling from behind. Her wife tilted her head back to look at her. "Hi, Honey."

Lil returned her smile. "Hi, Love. Should I get ready first and then we trade places?"

"I don't know. I think you look beautiful just the way you are," Ling said, grinning playfully.

"Thanks, but I don't think poop covered overalls are appropriate clothes for a reaping."

Ling laughed. "Probably not. Go ahead. I'll be here."

Lil nodded and headed to the bedroom she and her wife shared. She took off her dirty overalls and traded them for a light, peach colored dress that reached her dark-skinned knees. Then she ran a comb through her curly, dark brown hair and tied it back before rejoining Ling. "You're turn, lovely."

Ling pecked Lil on the cheek and passed Jenna off to her. Jenna cooed and wrapped her little arms around Lil's neck. In turn, Lil kissed the top of her daughter's head. Walking over to the window, she peered outside and groaned. In the minute or two that Jing had escaped her mothers' watchful eyes, she had managed to find a mud puddle and was centered happily in it. Sighing, Lil went outside to retrieve the little girl.

"Mommy Lil! Can Jenna play in the mud puddle with me?"

Lil shook her head. "No sweetheart, not right now. You need to take a bath."

Luckily, Jing liked baths, and the family was able to meet the horse-drawn wagon right on schedule. Many wagons travelled back and forth between the main part of the district and the farms daily, carrying eggs and milk from the farms to the processing plants in the center of Ten. Several more headed to the outer district ranches to collect the meat of cattle and pigs to be butchered at the factories. During reaping day though, such business ceased in favor of carrying families to the reaping. Ling's farm was eight miles out, and so the Huang-Carey family had to take a wagon to the Justice Building, along with their closest neighbors. The trip took just a little over an hour, and Lil felt lucky to not have to travel as far as the ranch families had to. For them, trips were a full day affair, sometimes two.

Hi, Boss and Boss! And Jing and Jenna of course!" said a jolly woman as she climbed on the wagon.

"Hi, Merita," Lil replied. "You can still call me Lil, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Merita said when a grin. "I'm just joking.

Merita Dyson was a member of the small staff that worked on Huang Farm. She and Lil had started working on the farm at around the same time, and had been friends ever since. She had no children of her own as of yet, but still had to come along to the mandatory reaping. The three women chatted, with Jing happily chiming in as the wagon rolled along.

Finally, the wagon came to a stop, and it's passengers hopped off. Carrying their daughters, Lil and Ling checked in and joined the crowd of anxious mothers. Lil listened through the mayor's speech and the annual video, clutching Ling's hand as the escort stepped up to the microphone. As far as escorts went, Lysbeth looked like natural. She had a natural beauty about her, with long, curly blonde hair and brown eyes. She had fair skin, and was described by many as looking like a porcelain doll.

"Hello, District Ten. Let's get started right away." Lysbeth drew a name from the women's bowl. "Lil Carey!"

Lil couldn't help but gasp. Horrified, she turn to Ling, who looked as though she was about to burst into tears. With shaking hands, Lil handed Jenna to her wife. "I'll be okay. I'll see you in a little bit," she whispered as she did so. Then, she moved towards the stage, only to feel a tug on the hem of her dress.

"Mommy Lil? Where are you going? Can I come too?"

"No, Jing. I'll be back soon. Go back to Mommy." Lil gently pushed the little girl towards Ling, and once she was safe, she continued to the stage.

"Thank you, Lil," said Lysbeth. "Let's meet your district partner."

As Lysbeth drew the name, Lil looked anywhere but at Ling, knowing if she did, she'd only burst into tears, which would surely scare Jing. Mostly, she scanned the group of father's, not wanting to think about who might be the one to join her.

"Hector Jackson!" For a minute, no one moved. "Hector?"

A man stood in the crowd, shaking his head in disbelief. As the camera zeroed in on him, a peacekeeper had to move forward in an attempt to drag him to the stage. Hector seemed to decide he wanted none of that, and slugged the peacekeeper in the face before storming to the stage. Before climbing up, he spit right at the nearest camera for good measure.

"Thank you, Hector," Lysbeth said awkwardly, almost seeming guilty. She had Lil and Hector shook hands before both were taken into the justice building. Taking a deep breath, Lil settled down into the plush couch.

Ling wasted no time coming into the room, both kids in tow. She threw one arm around here, the other one cradling Jenna. Jing hovered by her side, looking concerned about her distressed mothers. "Oh, Lil! Why did it have to be you?"

"Sh… I'll be okay," Lil said softly. "I'll come home to you."

"You'd better," Ling said, tears pricking at her eyes. "You have to fight, Lil. Learn all you can."

The two women embraced each other tightly, with Ling balancing Jenna on Lil's lap.

"Mommy Lil?" Jing's tiny voice piped up. "What's gonna happen now?"

"Mommy Lil's going to go away for a bit," Lil replied. "I'm going on an adventure. I have to go by myself, but I'll be home before you know it."

"I'll miss you, Mommy Lil," Jing whimpered, hugging Lil with all her might.

"I'll miss you, too. You and Jenna and Mommy."

"You'll bring your wedding ring as your token?" Ling asked.

Lil nodded. "Of course."

The family spent the rest of their visit cuddling, something they did quite well. Too soon, Lil had to say goodbye, for possibly the last time. She kissed the girls on their heads and Ling on the lips before they disappeared through the door. It wasn't until the door closed behind them that Lil allowed tears to flow.

The door opened again not a minute later, and Merita entered the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, which shocked Lil, as she couldn't remember a time that she had ever seen her friend cry.

"Now, don't cry, Lil," Merita said, hugging her friend. "You're going to get me started again!"

Lil wiped her eyes, laughing weakly. "Sorry. I'll try to stop."

"You know what you you'll try to do? You'll try to win. I know you can. You're young, and charming, too. The Capitolites are going to love you!"

Lil managed a small smile. "Yeah, I guess I have that going for me, don't I?"

"Good luck in there," Merita said after a few more minutes. "I know you can do it."

The door hadn't even closed before Lil had another guest.

"Alex! You came!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Lil's oldest friend said. "Just because life has gotten in the way for both of us doesn't mean I still don't care about you."

Lil squeezed Alex in a hug. The pair had been friends in their school days, and Lil had even roomed with her before getting pregnant with Jenna. After her daughter was born and she married Ling, Lil had seen less and less of Alex. Despite the circumstance, it was nice to catch up again. As always, Alex had nothing but encouraging words for her.

After Alex left, Lil expected the next person to open the door to be Lysbeth. However, she was shocked to find the nervous face of Miron peering in at her. "May I come in?"

Lil could only give a stunned nod as her ex-boyfriend entered the room.

"I-I'm sorry, Lil," Miron said. "I shouldn't have left."

"The baby is a year old," Lil said, unable to think of a better response. She wanted to say that she was better off, that she loved Ling now and that she was happier she could have ever been with him. She wanted to say that it was his loss for missing out on Jenna. However, she refrained. What good would it do? Instead, she added, "her name is Jenna."

"Jenna," Miron repeated softly. "I should have been there for her. She should have had a father."

"She has two mothers to care for her," Lil said, "and an older step-sister. She's happy."

If Miron was surprised to hear that Lil was married to a woman, he didn't show it. Lil had always been open with her bisexuality, and to her, the fact that she was dating a male or a female never really mattered. It was Ling's love and devotion that mattered the most.

"I was just so scared of losing someone I loved to the arena. I never wanted kids. I couldn't bare to see a child of mine being sent off to the fight to the death. I guess it doesn't matter now, though. I never thought you'd be reaped and… Lil, I never stopped loving you. I know you're married now, and it doesn't make a difference but… please come home."

"I will," Lil replied. "My family needs me."

"Good luck," Miron replied awkwardly, then slipped out the door.

After a moment, the door opened again. This time, Lysbeth appeared in the door frame. As she stood, Lil knew that nothing would ever be the same.

 **Author's note: Sorry for the small delay. It's been three weeks, I know. Part of that was finals, which are over with now. But I'm going to be honest here, perhaps the biggest reason for my delay is that last week I got my hands on** _ **Lady Midnight**_ **, the latest book from Cassandra Clare, and anything taking place in her world of Shadowhunters is addicting to me. So, that book has been a major distraction. Sorry about that. :)**

 **On another note, I have discovered that goodbyes are my least favorite part of reapings to write. I feel they are so repetitive, so I'm sorry if they begin to seem boring and even rushed as we progress into the reapings. Hopefully I'll manage to keep them interesting. We're half way done, after all. :) I'll see you soon with the reapings from Districts 4 and 9. :)**


	6. Chapter 4: Reapings, Districts 4 and 9

**Author's Note: Thank you to jds2416 for Meridian and Saffron, david12341 for Marin, and The Awesome Novice Writer for Zane. Also thanks to MidnightRaven323 for Deimos and Wetstar for Essylt.**

 **Warning: Depressive thoughts and mentions of social anxiety and hypomania in Zane's POV.**

 **Chapter 4: Districts 4 and 9 Reapings**

 **Meridian Vale, District Four Female, 29 -** _ **jds2416**_

"Mom?" the voice of eight-year-old Zachary called, interrupting Meridian's dreams. "Mommy?"

"What is it Zachary?" Meridian asked, fighting back a yawn.

"Basil's here. He was banging on the door, so I let him in. He brought muffins!"

Meridian groaned. She loved her boyfriend, but honestly, didn't the man ever sleep? "Already? Why's he so early?"

Zachary giggled. "It's not _that_ early, Mom. It's past eight-thirty! I've been up since eight!"

Meridian bit back a curse and flung herself out of bed. She had forgotten to set her alarm. Again. Now she only had an hour and a half to get herself ready before the reaping started. Luckily, Zachary had already gotten himself dressed. The only piece that was astray was that he had missed a button hole on his shirt. Meridian paused on the way to her closet to fix it for him. "There you go. All set! Now go eat breakfast, I'm going to hop in the shower."

Zachary grinned and scurried off. Meridian selected her reaping outfit from her closet and carried it to the bathroom before dumping it on the floor and stripping off her pajamas. Once in the shower, she sighed contentedly, letting the hot water run onto her dark cinnamon skin. She was too busy rinsing the shampoo out of her long, wavy black hair to notice a tiny arm with the same skintone as her own reaching through the curtain. The hand blindly found the faucet and turned the water from comforting hot to bone-chilling cold.

"Zachary!" Meridian shrieked, rapidly shutting off the water. She heard a fit of giggles and the patter of bare feet across the bathroom floor before the door thudded close as her son left the room.

"I'm going to get you!" Meridian called playfully as she wrapped herself in a towel and dried herself off. After drying her hair and putting on her outfit, Meridian hastily left the bathroom and strided into the kitchen.

"Tickle attack!" she cried, tickling her son's tummy and grinning as he shrieked with glee.

"Zachary, what did you do to your mother to cause such a dire punishment?" Basil asked the boy he loved like a son.

Zachary was laughing too hard to answer, so Meridian spoke for him. "He turned on the cold water on me! I think that requires tickling."

Basil laughed. "Indeed. Come on, let's get going. Here's a muffin, you can eat on the way."

The three of them headed out the door, with Zachary running ahead. Meridian shuddered as soon as she stepped outside. The air was hot and muggy, as it usually was this time of year, but the sky was dark gray and the wind whipped through her hair. Out on the ocean, large waves rolled into the shore, crashing against the rocks. A storm was blowing in, and Meridian hoped she could be home before it began.

"Everything alright?" Basil asked, taking her hand.

"Just fine," Meridian said. She didn't want to admit her uneasiness of rough water, a feeling she had since losing her husband, John, in a boating accident five years previous.

"Meridian! There you are!" called the familiar voice of her best friend, Estonia Baelin. The two of them had been close since kindergarten, when Estonia got Meridian out of trouble from putting gum in a boy's hair by claiming that she had done it. The two had been thick as thieves ever since.

"What's up?" Meridian asked.

"Oh, nothing," Estonia said. Her smile was far too innocent to be believable. "Look what I have."

Estonia held out an expensive pair of gold earrings, decorated with sparkling diamonds and sapphires. Meridian raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess," she said. "You snuck those in your purse while at the market."

Estonia gasped in mock-defense. "What? You think I couldn't afford them?"

Meridian shrugged. "Maybe, but you don't really have the best track record with paying for things like that."

"Meridian, honey!" The two women were interrupted by the cheerful voice of Christian Amalio, a friend from high school. "And Estonia! How are you doing?"

The conversation continued as Meridian joined the line. Neither Estonia nor Christian had kids, though Christian was thinking of adopting a daughter, despite not having a husband or even a boyfriend. Meridian thought it would be good for him, though Christian wasn't too sure yet.

After checking in, Meridian sent Zachary off with Basil and parted ways to join the other mothers. "Good luck, honey!" Christian called after her, and she thanked him with a wave. Then, she waited, bored. Her eyes fell on the victors seated on stage. With Finnick and Annie living in the Capitol the majority of the year, there were currently four living victors. Marissa Swan, the oldest at close to sixty years old, no longer mentored. Next to her sat Casscade Marshall, victor of the seventy-ninth Games, and perhaps one of the most remembered victors after Finnick Odair. To her left, the victor of the eighty-third Games, Zale Zuccola, lounged back, his tanned arms stretched back behind his messy black hair. Finally, twenty-one-year-old Nimue Wynshaw, who won at just age fifteen, sat with a sour expression on her face, crossing her arms like she'd rather be anywhere else. Meridian couldn't blame her. She felt the same way.

Meridian tapped her foot impatiently, waiting the video to finish so that Deimos could reap the tributes or someone could volunteer, and she could carry on with her day. Finally, the screen faded to black, and District Four's escort stepped to the stage. As he was in a Career district, the crowd applauded for him, but in general, Meridian imagined they weren't nearly as enthusiastic as those in One and Two would be.

Even though he was in a highly coveted district, Deimos was young, about twenty-five years old. As far as Meridian knew, he was the youngest the district had ever had. Originally planning to be a stylist, Deimos had very strong opinions about fashion and his appearance. In Meridian's opinion, though, his idea of an attractive appearance was far from reality. His eyes were slightly-slanted and gray, and his long, wavy hair was dyed dark denim blue, with lighter blue highlights throughout. He had a mustache and goatee of the same color, but they appeared as a mere stubble. His clothes were decent though, as he was dressed in a navy blue shirt and black pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal tattoos that covered his entire arms.

"Hello District Four," Deimos said pleasantly. "I'm glad to be back in the district for the third year in a row! Now, who's excited for the Quell"

Many people clapped, and some even cheered, but the noise was only a fraction of what was heard in a normal year in Four. Some escorts would have been disappointed or even upset, but Deimos didn't even seem phased. He reached into the women's bowl and didn't waste time drawing a name. "Meridian Vale!"

Well, shit. That was her. Meridian let out a screech. The sound was not fearful, but rather soaked in fury. The nearest peacekeeper headed towards her, presumably to escort her to the stage, but before he could touch her, she tackled him and kneed him in the groin. As he crumpled to the ground, she sprinted to the sidelines where a wide-eyed Zachary was waiting with a stunned Basil. Meridian only had time to give her son a strong squeeze and a kiss before two peacekeepers grabbed her by the arms and half-carried, half-dragged her to the stage.

"Well then, you must be Meridian Vale," said Deimos.

"No, I'm Aqua Arrington," Meridian said, keeping a straight face as she made up a random name. "I just did all that to get attention and be on tv."

Deimos stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not she was for real. After a few seconds, Deimos seemed to realize she was kidding. He laughed a little. "Alright, maybe that was a bit silly of me. That _was_ quite the show, though. You sure know how to create entertainment."

A few people laughed, if only to humor him. Still angry at the fact that she had to leave her son after eleven years of thinking she was safe from the Games, Meridian glared out at the crowd, her gaze only softening when her eyes met those of her son and boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Deimos reached into the men's bowl. "I volunteer!" A man shouted clearly, bolting to the stage before Deimos could even unfold the paper. He was young, looking barely older than an average Four volunteer during any other year. The man was about six-feet tall, built like a Career who had trained for years. His hair was light brown and short, and his eyes round and sea green.

There was a light grumbling throughout the crowd. Volunteering before a name was called was not against the rules, but to many in Four, it was considered improper and rash. Deimos, on the other hand, seem pleased. "Ah, good. A volunteer. Good to add variety. I guess this time it makes sense to ask you for your name."

"Marin Zale," the volunteer said. His voice was clear and confident, but not boastful. Meridian sighed in relief. Hopefully his attitude would continue, and she wouldn't be stuck with a district partner whose head was inflated more than a pufferfish.

"Pleasure to meet you," Deimos said. "Marin, Meridian, shake hands."

Meridian did so, her handshake firm. Marin offered her a gentle smile, which caused her to question why he was there. She didn't have time to ask though, not that she would even if they did have the time. On stage was not the place. Perhaps if they got along, she would find out later.

Meridian moved into the justice building, peacekeepers flanking her on both sides to ensure she didn't cause any trouble. Meridian almost chuckled to herself. Of course, they wouldn't trust her to behave after the stunt she pulled, but it wasn't like there was anything she could do now, nothing that wouldn't mean suicide. So, she simply flopped down on the couch and waited for her little boy.

The door creaked open, and Zachary slipped in, followed by Basil. Zachary's eyes were red and puffy, while Basil looked like he was trying to hold himself together. "Mommy?" Zachary asked in a timid voice. "Are you going into the Hunger Games?"

Meridian didn't even bother lying. Zachary was eight now, about the age that kids started learning what the Hunger Games truly were. It was the age that many of them starting training, whether to volunteer, or in many cases, just as a precaution in case they were reaped and no one volunteered for them. Meridian was sure that no matter what happened with her and the Games, Zachary would enter training for the latter option.

"Yes, sweetheart," Meridian said, "but not because I want to."

"Are you going to die?" Zachary asked, his lip quivering.

"No, sweetheart, no way," Meridian said, surrounding her son in a tight hug. "I'll make it home to you, I promise."

"You're mom's a toughie," Basil said, ruffling Zachary's black hair. "She'll win."

Zachary nodded slightly, burying his head in his mother's stomach. After a round of cuddling and I love yous and I'll see you soons, her boyfriend and son were out of the room. Meridian refused to call this the end, though. She would see them again. She had to. Estonia and Christian came in, along with Camille Trydant, a friend from her work as a journalist, and while they offered advice and suggestions, Meridian's mind could only focus on thoughts of seeing Zachary again. Her mind stayed there even after Deimos came to retrieve her.

* * *

Zane Oupfeild, District Nine Male, 36 - _The Awesome Novice Writer_

Zane was lonely, though he supposed he deserved it. Daria, his ex-wife had given up on him, divorcing him years ago, and had taken their daughter with her. Zane supposed they were better off that way, but that didn't mean he didn't miss them. Even though he knew he didn't deserve them, he still wanted them back.

Currently, Zane sat on a rock wall that stood about three feet tall, watching people walk by on their way to the reaping. People avoided him like he had a contagious disease and even a stray cat wandered by across the dirt road, watching him apprehensively. Zane didn't mind. He even prefered it that way, and he definitely didn't blame any of them, as he was far from being pretty to look at. His hair was black, chin length, and messy, and it hadn't been washed for months. His naturally light brown skin was caked with dirt, making it look darker than it really was, and his dark brown eyes looked hollow and far away. He was physically falling apart due to years of alcohol and drug abuse. Zane looked as though he could drop down dead at any time, and many days, he wished he would. He was homeless, and had been ever since the divorce. He didn't have anywhere else to go.

Zane's body shuddered, but not because he was cold. His body needed food, and craved distraction, either through needle, powder, or bottle. He didn't care which. However, alcohol and drugs were substances Zane could no longer afford unless he stole them, and he rarely had the courage to do so. Sometimes, Zane found himself in states where he felt energized and free, and he no longer feared anything. Nothing could stop Zane during these times, and he loved the feeling of euphoria they gave him. Unfortunately, the high was only a phase, and more often than not, Zane felt like he had sunken in a hole of depression and worthlessness, one he could never climb out of. That was when Zane remembered who he truly was.

He was a boy kicked out by his parents at age thirteen because he couldn't hold a steady, legal job, and stole whenever he could gather the nerve. He never blamed them though, and blamed himself when they died eleven years later, even though he hadn't been around. He was a man who avoided people at all costs except for when he had to, which was rarely. He was a man who somehow got Daria Dashmir to befriend him, and even marry him. He was a man who could have had a family with her and their daughter Autiaum, but threw it all away with his depression, alcohol and drug use, and impulsiveness in stealing gifts for them or buying items they could not afford while in his states of euphoria. Daria finally had enough. She thought she could help him after he helped her when her sister died, but while Daria could recover, his mental health did not change. He supposed it even worsened. For that reason, Daria divorced him and moved away, taking Autiaum with her. Zane failed to pay rent after that, and wound up on the streets.

Zane slowly stood up from the wall, his body quivering with withdrawal. He trudged to the square, his feet kicking up dust as he went. He bent his head low, trying to avoid the stares he was doubtlessly recieving. Every once in a while, he glanced up, hoping to catch a glimpse of Daria and Autiaum. Even if he were to see them, he had no idea what he would say. He was only brave enough to approach them during a state of euphoria. Still, he was always disappointed that they were nowhere to be found.

Zane joined the long line of parents waiting to check in, and still, he saw no sign of his family. He thought nothing as the peacekeeper at the desk pricked his finger, and silently followed the peacekeeper's instructions to stand with the other fathers. He stood in his place, nervously wringing his hands. He didn't want to be so close to so many other men, but he didn't really have a choice. He had to be there and would face severe punishment if he tried to run away. So he stood silently, avoiding eye contact with the men surrounding him the best that he could.

District Nine reapings were horribly dismal. They had no surviving victors left, and hadn't since Cilantro Wallis, victor of the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, died of old age around fifteen or twenty years previous, maybe longer. Zane didn't know nor care. Since his death, Nine's tributes had very rarely made it past the final eight, maybe only two or three times at most. As for the escort, Essylt Licinus, she looked completely disgusted to be in such a place. Essylt had transferred to District Nine three years previous after working in Eleven for two years, and it was clear she felt that she deserved a more worthy district. The young woman certainly didn't fit in with anyone from Nine. She had a large, bleach blonde globe of hair balanced on the top of her head, and bright green eyes. She also had pale blue skin, and her fingertips ended with unnaturally long, black nails. She was dressed totally in gold, going for her usual metallic look. As the annual video played, her gaze seemed as bored as everyone else's. As soon as it was over, she strutted over to the female's bowl, her head held high in superiority. She plucked out a name, holding the slip out in far in front of her as if it were covered with mud.

"Saffron Jameson," she said, her voice monotone and bored.

A woman in her forties or fifties gingerly stepped out of the crowd of mothers, a few stray tears streaming down her face. She looked frail, with thin, fiery red hair and wrinkles around her green eyes. Despite being average height, she was extremely thin and likely malnourished. Slowly, Saffron began walking to the stage, but was interrupted by the angry outburst of a teenager.

"Stop!" called a girl as she fought against a peacekeeper holding her back. "That's my mom! Let me go!"

The girl broke free and bolted towards her mother. Saffron stopped and turned around to face her, shaking her head. "Farra!" she snapped. "Stop! Get back!"

The girl hesitated, but then retreated, tears pouring down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Saffron continued to the stage. She took her place next to Essylt, who sneered at her before strutting to the male's bowl. "Zane Oupfeild."

The world froze when Zane heard his name. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't even think. He just stood.

"Come on, Zane," Essylt snapped. "We don't have all day! Let's get a move on."

Zane finally broke out of his stupor when a peacekeeper grabbed his arm. As he walked to the stage, tears began to flow steadily from his eyes. He was going to die. He would never be able to reenter the lives of Daria and Autiaum now. He'd never even see them again. Hell, they probably wouldn't even miss him.

Zane barely heard Essylt telling him to shake hands with Saffron, nor did he feel her hand in his. He just felt numb. He barely registered a peacekeeper guiding him into the justice building, and once alone, he buried his head in his hands. He didn't even hear when the door opened a few minutes later.

"Dad?"

Zane's head snapped up at the tiny voice coming from the doorway. "Autiaum?" he said, his eyes wide. His daughter. She had come.

The ten-year-old gave a small nod and awkwardly took a seat across from him. "Mom thought I should come to say goodbye."

 _Because she knows I'm going to die,_ Zane thought, but he didn't say so aloud. "Is she… coming?"

Autiaum shook her head. "No, but I wanted to." For a while, they both fell silent. There was so much Zane wanted to say to his daughter, but he just didn't know how. Finally she spoke. "I wish I could help you."

Zane shook his head. "Your mother's right. I can't be helped. I'm too far gone."

"Don't say that," Autiaum said. "You don't know that. Maybe you'll win and then you can find help in the Capitol."

Zane looked at his sweet little girl with sad eyes. "The Capitol won't help. They'd only make things worse."

Autiaum sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

Eventually, Autiaum stood up and headed towards the door. Before she left, Zane finally worked up the courage to say something he hadn't said in years.

"Autiaum, wait." The girl looked over her shoulder. "I love you."

"I know," she said. Then, after a moment of hesitation, added, "I love you, too."

Then, she was gone, and Zane was all alone, just like normal. Alone, that is, until Essylt opened the door. She didn't stay long though, probably repulsed by the dirtiness of him.

"Onto the train," she said. "I won't ask you again, so unless you want peacekeepers to drag you there, hurry up."

Then she left, bursting into Saffron's room next door to give her the exact same message.

Zane sighed and wiped his eyes. He thought his life was bad now, but he knew everything was about to get ten times worse.

 **Author's Note: Another chapter done. :) I hope you all enjoyed it. Writing Zane's POV was a good way to spend my raining day, though I'm sure poor Zane wouldn't agree.**

 **I've decided to change up my schedule a bit, since I realized having six povs in the train ride chapters would be too many, so I have cut them both down to four each. Also, I am giving everyone only two pregames POVs rather than three (with those getting a reaping POV having that count as one of their two), in hopes of getting to the Games around the same time, without making the chapters 12,000 words long. Because I don't know about you when it comes to reading, but I don't want to write (and edit) chapters that long. 6,000 - 7,000 is ideally the longest I ever want to go. Anyway, I hope everyone is okay with this. I should still be able to give everyone the attention they deserve.**

 **To my fellow Americans, have a happy Memorial Day weekend. To my international readers, have a good, normal length weekend. :) See you in June.**


	7. Chapter 5: Reapings, Districts 5 and 8

**Author's note: Thanks to youngpatriot for Seamon (which, by the way, is pronounced Shay-mon. Just FYI.) and Anita, Red Roses1000 for Varia, and for Dresden. Also, thank you to CelticGames4 for both escorts.**

 **Chapter 5: Reapings, Districts 5 and 8**

 **Seamon Devier, District Five Male, 42 -** _ **youngpatriot**_

"Regina! Did you take my yellow hair ribbon?" Seamon's sixteen-year-old daughter, Reagan, asked her twelve-year-old sister.

"No!" the younger girl called from the bathroom. "I don't have it."

"Then why can't I find it?"

"You know girls, it would be easier for you to find your belongs if you cleaned your room once and while," said their mother, Marylnn.

"We do!" Regina replied, while Reagan only sighed.

Trevor, the oldest of Seamon and Marylnn's children at eighteen, met his father's glance across the table and rolled his eyes. "Girls. It took me less than ten minutes to get ready. What takes them so long?"

Seamon shrugs. "Women just tend to take longer than men, at least all the women I know. Their appearance takes more work than ours, and therefore, more time."

"Well, Dad, with your hair disappearing like it is, of course they take longer," Trevor said, cracking a grin.

"Haha," Seamon replied, unamused. His dark hair was receding, but at least he still had most of it. "Very funny."

Finally ready, Seamon's wife and daughters joined them at the table. Seamon did his best to ignore the empty chair that remained. Three years ago, that chair had been filled by his son, Deacon, who would have been seventeen now, if he hadn't been lost to the Hunger Games at age fourteen. The months following Deacon's death had been the hardest of Seamon's life. Losing his son had caused him to sink into depression, and during that time, he had been neglectful towards his other children, so much so, they they had gone to live with his sister-in-law, so that he and Marylynn could grieve. As a result, Seamon felt like a failure as a father. He couldn't even care for his children in the moment they needed him most. Never in his life had Seamon ever felt so selfish.

The family was quiet as they ate, as they usually tended to be during meals before the reaping. Losing Deacon had put a strain on the whole family, not just Seamon. This time of year was always hard, with everyone nervous that another one of their own would be reaped. This year would have been Regina's first reaping, but with the Quell twist, Seamon and Marylynn were the ones in jeopardy. Seamon was nervous for himself and his wife, but knew there was no use in dwelling on it. The most logical way to react to reaping day was to focus on the tasks ahead, which included making sure his family was as prepared for the reaping as they possibly could be and out the door in time.

The family filed out the door at around quarter to ten, since they lived less than a mile from the Justice Building. Once there, Marylynn planted kisses on her children's foreheads while Seamon hugged them goodbye, assuring them that they would see each other soon before the kids headed to the sidelines. Marylynn and Seamon didn't speak as they stood in line, but rather clasped each other's hands. With their fingers pricked, Seamon stood to the side and faced his wife. She bite her lip, looking unsure of what to say.

"Try not to worry, Marylynn," Seamon said gently. "The odds of one of use being chosen are extremely low."

"That's what we thought three years ago," Marylynn said, her voice wavering.

Seamon sighed. "I know, but with losing both Deacon and my brother to the Games, the chances of a third Devier being reaped is even more decreased. It would be like the same tree being struck by lightning three times in it's life."

Seamon wasn't being optimistic. He never was one to look on the bright side and imagine the best in a situation. Instead, he was simply stating the logical truth. To have a third member of one's family reaped into the Games was statistically unlikely, what with all the other slips in the bowl each year. Understanding that, Marylynn nodded before kissing her husband's cheek and departing for the women's section.

Maneuvering through the crowd, Seamon spotted his best friend, Weldon Wright. He and Weldon had grown up as neighbors and had been close ever since. Though the pair lived a few blocks away from each other now, they still got together to smoke cigars and chat, just like they always had.

"Good Morning, Weldon."

Weldon held up a hand in greeting, but grunted. "Hmph. Not a very good morning, though, is it? Thought I was done with these reapings and only had my kids to worry about."

"That's the Capitol for you," Seamon said with a sigh.

"All too true. Want to come to my place this afternoon, since we have a day off?"

"Sure. That would be nice," Seamon agreed.

The two men quieted as the mayor came to the stage. After a short speech, Mayor Escott introduced the victors and the escort. Though District Five had one of the highest victor counts of the lower districts, only three victors were currently living. Silex Ramon, Akila Mo, and Meyer Wilson sat lined up in a row. The oldest, fifty-six-year-old Silex, could be seen out and about in the district, "spreading around hope" as he put it. The other two, thirty-one -year-old Akila and nineteen-year-old Meyer never left their cozy homes in victor's village, with exceptions coming twice a year during the reapings and the victory tours. The escort, an older woman named Belphoebe Faustina, had seen the younger two victors to victory. She was a short and chubby woman, with a fluffy pink wig upon her head, her face covered in pink make-up to match. For a Capitolite, her outfit was simple, but she was covered in gold necklaces, bracelets, and rings decorated with a variety of gems. Seamon couldn't be sure how old she was, since she had obviously had several cosmetic surgeries over the years. He suspected she was at least in her fifties, probably older, as she had mentioned adult children for years, and even a granddaughter for the past two or three reapings.

"Hello, District Five," Belphoebe said brightly. "Let's start with the mothers. I'm a mother myself, as you know, with three wonderful children. They're all adults now, of course, but I do love them dearly, as I'm sure all of you love your own offspring. Let's see here… Varia Staves!"

A trembling woman with a blonde updo stepped out of the crowd, tears pouring from her piercing blue eyes. Halfway to the stage, Varia stopped walking as she glanced out into the crowd of non-eligible citizens. At that point, she began to sob harder, and stayed frozen in place. After a moment, a peacekeeper came forward and dragged her roughly by the arm onto the stage.

"Don't worry, dear," Belphoebe said to the sobbing woman who stood by her side. "You'll see your family soon. Is there anything you'd like to say to the audience."

Varia shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was thick with tears. "No. N-not here."

"Alright. Suit yourself." Belphoebe then moved on to the male's bowl and withdrew a name. "Seamon Deveir!"

Seamon gasped, stunned at hearing his name. Deveir. He had hoped he would never have to hear his surname at a reaping again. Yet, here it was, for a third time. He broke out in a cold sweat and took a shaky step forward. Seamon quivered so badly as he approached the stage, that he felt surprised when he made it without falling over.

"Hello, Seamon," the escort said cheerfully, as if he were meeting an old friend rather than the woman who would lead him to his death. "Anything you would like to say?"

Unable to speak, Seamon only shook his head. Belphoebe told him and Varia to shake hands, and they did so, before being shoved into the Justice Building. Alone in a room, Seamon sat on the edge of a chair, staring at the door in shock. At any minute, his family would enter, and he'd have to say goodbye for the last time.

Regina was the first to burst into the room, her body quivering with tears as she barreled into him, burying her head in his chest. The rest of the family followed behind. Reagan and Marylynn were also in tears, while Trevor swallowed hard, keeping his emotions back as he tried to seem strong and manly. "Dad, don't go!" Regina cried. "This isn't fair!"

"The Games aren't fair, Regina," Seamon said, hugging his youngest daughter. "It's about time you learn that."

"You'll come home. I know you will," Reagan said. At sixteen, Reagan was still a dreamer, as well as a daddy's girl. She believed he could do anything. Seamon had no idea where she got her never ending optimism. Certainly not from him.

Seamon didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. How could he tell his children that he wasn't coming home to them? They would think he didn't even want to try, or that they weren't worth it. Perhaps they deserved a stronger father, a better one. One that had a chance. It wasn't as though he would step off the plate early. That would send a terrible message to his family. No, Seamon would do his best to stay in the shadows, and possibly manage to scrape his way into victory when all the other tributes took each other out. He doubted that would be the case though, and didn't want to fill his children with false hope.

"Look, guys," Seamon began. "I… I know I haven't been there for you all as much as I should have been after we lost Deacon, but... I do love you. I hope you know that. You don't deserve this, to lose not only your brother but also your father in this way."

"So you're giving up," Trevor muttered angrily. "Just like Deacon did."

"No, he isn't," Marylynn said, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder. "He's going to try his best to make it home. Isn't that right, dear?"

Seamon nodded. "I won't just give up, but chances are small that I will suceed. I just want to prepare you for that."

Trevor stayed silent, while Reagan joined in the hug her father and sister were sharing. Marylynn wrapped her arms around them as well, looking expectantly at Trevor. The young man sighed, before he too, embraced his family. One by one, he gave each member of the family a tight squeeze and told them he loved them. Marylynn was last, and he kissed her lips, long and slow, knowing it would be the last time his lips touched hers. Then, they were gone. Weldon was his last visitor, but being a pessimist himself, he didn't have much to say. Soon, he left the room as well, leaving only Seamon's thoughts to keep him company.

* * *

 **Dresden Lume, District Eight Male, 41 -**

The blonde woman had left his bed an hour ago. Dresden hardly missed her. He hadn't even bothered to remember her name. To him, she was simply a distraction, nothing more. He couldn't even love her, not romantically. While he didn't care what gender he slept with, Dresden's romantic orientation only included other males, not that he had loved anyone romantically in twenty-three years. Sex and cigarettes were his only means of escape.

Dresden wasn't in the mood to leave his apartment, but he did anyway, only because reapings were mandatory. Dresden would never show his face in the center of the district if he could help it. He would take his time walking to the reaping. He didn't have far to go as it was, living near and working at the closest factory to the square. Dresden hated reaping day. It reminded him too much of Matthias, his ex-boyfriend, who had volunteered out of the blue and then proceeded to break up with him during goodbyes when they were eighteen.

As he trudged to the reaping at a slow pace, he came across a rather large family. They paid him no mind, but rather concentrated on arriving to the reaping on time. There were eight kids in all, with the oldest being at least twenty and the youngest around age eight. The youngest one was tearing ahead, with his mother trying to call him back repeatedly. The father must have been around Dresden's age, but looked twenty, even thirty years older. He had a crooked back and a lame leg, and hobbled around using a wooden cane. Dresden smirked. The man was pathetic. Dresden's life sucked, but at least he could walk. The couple must be stupid, too, for having so many kids in a dismal place like district eight. As much as Dresden liked to taunt the man and his family, though, in reality, he was jealous. Although the man was crippled, he had a loving family, something Dresden's life lacked. He'd be caught dead before he admitted his envy, however.

Dresden let the family distance themselves from him, while he peered into the windows of the shops he passed, wanting to kill as much time as possible before the reaping. He didn't plan to buy anything, not that the shops were open anyway. Dresden never bought more than the necessities he needed to survive. He didn't own many outfits, and bought only enough food and water to get by one. Much of his money that he earned was from his part-time job at a factory went towards rent and cigarettes. Occasionally, he would pay the people he slept with, while other times, they paid him. On rare occasions, the sex was free.

Many of the people walking by gave Dresden weary looks as they passed. Dresden figured they were concerned that he was planning on breaking in, or perhaps they were simply appalled at his appearance. Age had not treated Dresden well. His unruly dark hair was strewn at many odd angles, and his blue eyes were sunken. While he was tall, he was bony, and his limbs included sharp angles. He knew he wasn't the type of man most people wanted their children around.

As he expected, Dresden arrived at the justice building at the very last possible minute. No one was left to be checked in, and most of the peacekeepers had taken their places among the crowd. Dresden headed to the sidelines, but was stopped by the bark of a peacekeeper.

"Hold it! Every adult citizen must check in."

Dresden stared at him, perplexed. "I don't have children."

"How do I know you're not lying? Get over here before I force you."

Dresden sighed and stepped towards the peacekeeper, stating his name. The peacekeeper pricked his finger and looked up his name. "Ah ha," he said. "You're lucky it's the reaping and I don't whip you for lying."

This was unbelievable. Scowling at the peacekeeper, Dresden crossed his arms. "I'm not lying. I really don't have kids."

"Says here that you do," the peacekeeper argued. "A bastard son. Does the name Teresa Howell sound familar?"

Dresden thought back to all the women he could have possibly impregnated. Teresa Howell. Teresa. The more he thought, the more the name Teresa sounded familiar. At one point, a tall figure with brown hair came to mind, though her face was blurred from memory. Yes, it was quite possibly that he could have knocked up this Teresa woman, though Dresden supposed it really didn't matter. Teresa hadn't contacted him thus far, so why should she now? Dresden could stand with the other men at just this one reaping, and then go back to his miserable life. Nothing would change. Without anymore prodding, Dresden took his place in the very back of the crowd of men who had ever fathered a child.

Dresden didn't pay attention to anything on stage. Neither the bald mayor nor the two sorry-looking victors interested him. He barely paid attention as the red and navy colored escort gave his speech and reached into the woman's bowl.

"Anita Lang!"

A trembling woman with blonde hair stepped out of the crowd of women and walked to the stage. Dresden sighed, wishing she'd hurry up so the reaping could end and he could go home. Finally, she stepped onto the stage, and the mayor shook her hand.

"Welcome, Anita," Absalon said. "It's an honor to meet you. Best of luck. Now, for the males." Too slowly, he pulled out a name. "Dresden Lume!"

No _fucking_ way. Stunned that his life could get even more shitty, Dresden choked on his own spit, which turned into a hacking cough, an effect of years of smoking cigarettes. Once he could breathe again, the cough turned into a loud, bitter laugh. Of _course_ he would find out he had made a kid with some random girl, and then get reaped because of it, all in the same day. Instantaneously, the men around him formed a wide circle, trying to get as far away as they could. Zombie-like, Dresden staggered to the stage, thoughts of Matthias flooding his head.

"Welcome, Dresden," Absalon greeted. The man seemed frightened of him, and Dresden couldn't blame him. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're tributes! Anita Lang and Dresden Lume! Shake hands, tributes!"

Anita held out her hand, and Dresden hesitantly took it. Her hands were rough and dry, and after a brief handshake, Dresden was glad to let go. The woman looked to be in almost as bad shape as him. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back, and her pale face was beginning to show age. She must have been around his age, give or take five years, but it was hard to tell. Dresden nearly chuckled to himself. This woman certainly wasn't getting any sponsors based on her looks.

Eventually, he and Anita were guided into two separate rooms. Dresden briefly considered telling the peacekeepers that he could just be taken to the train, that he didn't have anyone he needed to speak with before he left for the Capitol. He decided against it, simply because if he did, he would surely have to face some awkward conversations with Absalon and the mentors, Georgette and Kente. At least with Anita on the train with him, the victors would have somebody else to bother. Chances were he wouldn't have much opportunity to be by himself during the day until he was in the arena, so he supposed he should take advantage of the time he did have.

After about a minute of sitting in silence, Dresden was surprised to see the door open, and Valleria Khallis step in. Valleria wasn't a friend, but rather a close acquaintance who happened to work at the same factory as he did. At night, she worked as a middleman, or a pimp of sorts, giving recommendations to Dresden and others about who should sleep with who. Heck, he had even slept with her brother. Dresden was just waiting for her to drop him, just like everyone else in his life had.

"Hey, Dresden. How are you holding up?"

He only shrugged.

"Yeah, dumb question," Valleria said. "You know, I never knew you had a kid. Who did you knock up?"

"Some woman named Teresa," he muttered, having already forgotten the woman's last name. Shit, Valleria was nosy. Why did she care so much about this when he didn't give a fuck at all?

Valleria nodded in understanding. "Do you have anyone else coming to visit you?"

Dresden scowled. "What do you think?"

Valleria held up her hands. "Sorry, sorry, good point."

The two of them didn't speak for a minute or two before Valleria stood up. "Well, I should go. I just wanted to wish you good luck in there." Dresden grunted. "I mean it. You don't deserve this."

When Dresden didn't reply, she left the room. It didn't take Dresden long to realize that maybe he didn't want to be left alone as much as he thought he did. How he wished he had Matthias coming for him to say goodbye. Of course, if Matthias was still alive, he likely wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. He wouldn't have slept around, and he and Matthias probably wouldn't have adopted kids. He wouldn't have been eligible to be reaped, and probably would be headed back home hand and hand with his boyfriend right at this moment as they discussed how pointless it was to have reapings be mandatory for everybody to attend. Of course, there was also be the possibility that Matthias still would have broken up with him, even if he hadn't volunteered for the Games. There was a possibility that everything would be the same.

Dresden broke out of his thoughts and glanced up sharply as he heard a timid knock at the door. "Dresden?" the voice of Absalon called out timidly. "It's time to go."

Time to go, indeed. Time to go to hell.

 **Author's Note: Hi there. :) A bit short of a chapter. Sorry about that, hope no one minds. In good news, we only have four more tributes to see before the reapings are done, so yay for that!**

 **On another note, a friend of mine, CelticGames4 (creator of Justus and Circe) and I will be starting a collab SYOT starting on June 15th! We both will likely be focusing most of our attention on our individual SYOTs, so no worries that this won't still be updated. Be on the lookout for that. :)**


	8. Chapter 6: Reapings, Districts 6 and 7

**Author's Note: Thank you dreams and desperation for Calissa, david12341 for Liz, Emrys Holmes for Maddox, and grimbutnotalways for Chase. Also, thanks to david12341 for Cinnabar and CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean for Francis. Enjoy the last reaping chapter!**

 **Chapter 6: Districts 6 and 7 reapings**

 **Calissa Peer, District 6 female -** _ **dreams and desperation**_

"Mama? Mama… help…"

Calissa's head snapped up as she heard the tiny voice of her son called from the bedroom they shared. She rose to her feet and was at her son's side in seconds.

"Good morning, my sweet Damien," Calissa said, reaching down to pick up her five-year-old son from the small mattress he slept on.

"Mama, it -" Damien frowned, his lower lip trembling as he lost his train of thought. Lately, it had become difficult for Damien to remember words. A few months ago, Damien could form coherent sentences, but now, it was a miracle if he could be understood at all.

"What, Damien? What is it?"

"Owie." All Damien could say to cover all his pain and suffering was a single word, but Calissa knew what he meant.

"I know, sweetheart," Calissa said, filing a syringe with a small dose of the only pain medication she could afford and injecting it into her son's arm. He didn't even flinch. Calissa wasn't sure if he even felt it. Being only a minimum dosage of the cheapest medicine she could find, the treatment did little to soothe Damien's suffering. It was worth a shot anyway.

"Mama… I…"

Calissa nodded encouragingly. "Yes, Damien?"

"I…bye-bye?"

Calissa cradled the little boy in her lap. "No. You're not going to die, I promise."

Calissa knew she couldn't promise anything, but she did anyway, not wanting to acknowledge the inevitable. In fact, Damien _was_ dying, just as his identical twin Robin had been three years before.

Scalapino's Disease. The condition was believed to be genetic, and therefore affected both twins. The disease was rare, though it had been present in Panem for a century now. During the dark days, a mutation in the genes of certain individuals had somehow been triggered. No one knew what caused it, not even those in the Capitol. Some said it was caused a bacteria that had previously remained dormant. Others believed it was a mutation in the chromosomes. A few even claimed the disease was caused by neurotransmitters in the brain malfunctioning. Whatever the cause, the devastating disease had no cure. Only children were affected, and as far as Calissa knew, no one had ever lived past the age of seven. Scientists and doctors eventually discovered that the disease was hereditary, and could only be inherited if both parents were carriers. However, there was no way of knowing who was and who wasn't a carrier, at least there wasn't in the districts.

For Calissa, the nightmare had started when her boys were about seventeen months old. Until then, Robin and Damien had been developing fine as healthy, smiling toddlers. Then, Robin starting behaving oddly. His eyelids and face drooped, and his eyes had began to fail to track movement, despite being able to do so for much of his life. They also tended to roll back suddenly if Robin moved his head too sharply. Between the two twins, Robin had been the first to learn to walk, but at around eighteen months old, his skills reverted as he began to lose balance in his steps and strength in his legs. In addition, Robin was often trembling, and his leg and arm movements were jerky and unpredictable. Robin couldn't be in the sun for more than a minute at a time, screaming and crying until he was brought back inside again, feeling calmest in the dark.

By twenty months of age, Robin had only deteriorated further. He stopped speaking, only making unintelligible sounds. Though he couldn't say so, he was often in obvious pain, with his muscles fluctuating between stiff and rigid and weak and twitching, as well as cramping. His physical growth in height was stunted, and his weight gain ceased to exist. His attention span was minimal, and his breathing became forced and labored, filled with rough snores as he slept.

As Robin showed more and more odd symptoms, Calissa and her husband, Cameron, grew even more concerned. They took Robin halfway across the district, to the best healers Six had to offer. At twenty-one months of age, he was diagnosed with the dreaded Scalapino's disease. Even worse, being Robin's identical twin meant that Damien would also develop the disease as well, most likely before the age of six. Both boys would die within the span of four or five years, likely less.

The news was heartbreaking for the Peers, as Calissa and Cameron had to watch their little boy suffer, and lived with the fear of the day that their seemingly healthy son, Damien would begin to show symptoms as well. Robin's development regressed, and soon, his skill level mimicked that of a three month old infant. He couldn't move or feed himself, and often couldn't even hold food down. As a result, he lost weight. At times, Robin looked at his parents in confusion, unable to recognize them. That was before he lost his sight, as well as hearing, completely. He also suffered the most horrific seizures. Finally, barely a month after Robin and Damien's second birthday, two sons became one.

For two more years, Damien continued to grow and act like a normal little boy. Calissa and Cameron had even considered sending him to school once he had turned five. Calissa even found herself hoping that maybe there was a mistake, that perhaps Damien somehow hadn't been affected by the disease that had stolen his brother. However, she was proven dreadfully wrong.

Damien wasn't quite four and a half years old when he began showing the signs of the disease. He progressed at a slower pace than his brother, as the older the child was, the more time they had between the earliest signs of disorientation and loss of balance and inevitable death. However, the signs were still present. Around the time Damien began to lose control of his legs about five or six months after the onset of symptoms, Cameron decided the stress of watching his son die was too much for him, and he left Calissa to deal with Damien on her own. They weren't divorced, exactly, just temporarily separated. Cameron sent money from each paycheck he earned, but Calissa couldn't help but feel hurt by Cameron's desertion when she and Damien needed him most.

By the time the reapings for the Quell rolled around, thirteen months had past since Damien first showed symptoms of his illness. He was in the late stages now, sitting at an incredibly low weight and throwing up most foods Calissa tried to give him. Many days he would wake up in the middle of the night or in the morning not knowing who Calissa was or what he called her. His muscles had forgotten how to move, and his vision and hearing were mostly gone. He hadn't experienced any seizures yet, but with Robin, that phase only lasted about two or three weeks before he was gone. Deep inside, Calissa knew Damien didn't have much time left, though she refused to admit it to herself.

Calissa hurried to the square as quickly as she could after managing to force Damien to drink some water and eat mashed banana, one of the few things he could keep down. She arrived right on time and checked in with the peacekeepers, who directed her to stand with the other mothers.

In the crowd, Calissa held her little boy close to her chest and listened to his labored breathing, a sound she could still hear over the sound of the video playing on stage. Perhaps she was simply conditioned to be tuned into her boy at all times. Either way, his struggle for air and his tiny whimpers shattered her heart. He hung limply in her arms, unable to keep any other position.

The escort that came to the stage was not the older, grouchy woman Calissa had been accustomed to seeing most of her life, but rather a man who didn't look to be much over eighteen. He was thin and looked a bit like a banana, fully dressed in yellow except for the pink stiletto boots he wore. Yellow tattoos shaped like suns and stars covered every patch of skin that wasn't covered by his clothes. Even his hair was yellow with peach streaks, and was styled in a tall mohawk. Calissa half expected his skin to be dyed yellow as well, but his skin tone was instead a natural dark brown.

"Hello District Six!" the young escort chirped. "I'm your new escort, Francis Rochester! I'm so very excited to be working in your district, rather than a place like poor district twelve! I can't wait to meet two of you brave, wonderful souls! So, that being said, let's choose our lucky mother."

Damien wheezed in Calissa's arms as Francis reached into the women's bowl. The young mother gently stroked her son's hair, soothing him softly. "Just a bit longer, Damien. Then we can go home and -"

"Calissa Peer!"

No… No, no, no. This could not happen. She couldn't leave her baby. She couldn't imagine leaving a healthy five-year-old without a mother, not to mention her sick son. Damien needed her.

Calissa stood in place as tears began to pool in her eyes, her face drained of color. She clung to Damien as tightly as she did, which really, was barely at all knowing how even a simple touch could cause him pain.

"Calissa?" Francis asked. "Don't be afraid of me, I won't hurt you. I know you're out there. Come on up."

It took only a few more seconds for two peacekeepers to locate Calissa in the crowd and stride towards her. One grabbed her by the arms, while the other one pried Damien away from her, causing the boy to screech in pain and confusion. At the sound, Calissa began to wail as well, as she fought back against the peacekeeper who dragged her to the stage.

"Stop! Give me my son! He needs me!"

"I'll take him. He'll be safe," the peacekeeper cradling Damien said, surprisingly softer than Calissa would have ever expected. Still, she could not relax, not when she was separated from her baby boy.

The peacekeeper holding her arm roughly jerked her to the stage, forcing her to take her place besides a stunned Francis.

"Well, you're clearly to upset to speak," Francis said, though Calissa barely heard him through her sobs, "so I think I'll just call up your district partner. Let's have… Maddox Hazeldine up here please!"

"No! Maddox! That's my husband!" The voice of a frantic man rose above the crowd, but the man who stepped out of the crowd looked remarkably calm apart from the fear in his round, blue eyes. His black hair was messy, and he was about six feet in height. As tears rolled down Calissa's face, she wondered how Maddox could act so calm.

"That must be your husband!" Francis cooed, pointing out the obvious. "How precious! What's his name?"

"Warren," Maddox replied, his voice still level.

"Well, he must love you very much," Francis said. "District Six, your tributes, Calissa Peer and Maddox Hazeldine! Shake hands!"

Once alone in the justice building, Calissa could not sit still. Where was Damien now? Was someone taking care of him? Was he scared? Fifteen minutes later, her questions were answered when the door opened and Cameron stepped into the room with Damien limp in his arms.

Calissa sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Thank you so much, Cameron."

Cameron nodded, passing Damien off to his wife. The little boy nestled himself into his mother. "Of course. I… I heard your name called. I had to do something. I know we haven't seen each other for eight months, but Damien's still my son, and I couldn't leave him like that. So I finally found the peacekeeper that took him from you and took him. Well, he gave him to me once I told him my name. Then I came straight here."

"Thank you," Calissa said. She wasn't sure what else to say, still in shock from being reaped.

After a small pause, Cameron spoke. "He's a lot worse."

Calissa stared at him. "Yes, he is, but you would know that if you stayed at home, wouldn't you?"

Cameron rubbed his temples. "Calissa, please. I don't want to fight. You were just reaped for the Hunger Games. You most likely are going to die."

"I'm not going to die," Calissa said. "Damien needs me."

The next few minutes were spent cradling Damien, with Calissa explained where their son was in his progression of the disease and instructions on how to care for him. Cameron promised he would care for Damien while Calissa was in the Games. Hopefully, if all went well, she would be back in Six as Damien's caretaker within a few weeks. After planting a kiss on her son's forehead, Calissa watched as Damien disappeared out the door in his father's arms.

"I love you Damien," Calissa whispered to herself in the silent room. "Mama will come home to you soon."

* * *

 **Elizabeth "Liz" Calico, 38 -** _ **david12341**_

"Mommy, look! I got ready all by myself!" Liz's youngest child, Daniel said as he skipped into the kitchen. Liz smiled fondly at the mismatched outfit only a four-year-old would dream of putting together. The little boy wore jeans with holes in each knee, and a red and white striped shirt with a stain on the front that was left unbuttoned. Around his neck hung a green tie with orange polka-dots that belonged to his father. Though it was a strong effort on Daniel's part, his outfit was far from suitable for a reaping.

"Daniel, honey, that's a really good job, but it's not really a good reaping outfit. Let's find something else, alright?"

Daniel looked disappointed. "Oh… Okay."

Already in her dress and her shoulder length, dark brown hair combed back, Liz followed her son to his room, and helped him dress in his best clothes, hand-me-downs from not only his fourteen-year-old brother, Joshua, but from the oldest in the family, nineteen-year-old Justin, as well. When she was finished, she went into the room she shared with her husband, Jackson. "Daniel and I are ready."

Jackson smiled. "Good. So am I. Is Avi still outside?"

Liz nodded. "I believe so."

"Would you mind finding her? I'd like to leave at about ten."

"Of course," Liz said, before heading outside in search of her seventeen-year-old daughter. Avi reminded Liz so much of herself when she was a girl. Like her mother, Avi was reserved and respectful, and most of her free time was spent out in nature. As expected, Liz found her perched in the maple tree centered in the family's backyard.

"Avi, it's time to get ready," Liz told her oldest daughter. "We are leaving for the reaping in twenty minutes."

"Alright, Mom," Avi said, hopping down from the tree and landing with the agility of a cat. Liz smiled lovingly at her daughter, who smiled back. Even though Avi was nearly an adult, Liz was still amazed by how much her daughter resembled her. Not only were their personalities similar, but Avi also looked just like Liz. They had the same dark brown hair, although Avi's was an inch or two longer. They both had wide, dark brown eyes and lightly tanned skin, as well as being of an average height. Together, the pair went back into the house to join Jackson and Daniel.

For once, Liz only had to worry about getting two children to the reaping on time. The twins, Melody and Josh, had slept over at their older brother, Justin's home. While Liz wished the twins would stay at home more often, she trusted her oldest son to ensure his younger siblings arrived at the reapings safely, especially since he was expected to be there a few minutes early anyway.

Justin was a victor. At age seventeen, he had been reaped for the ninety-eighth Hunger Games. The family had been terrified for him, watching the screens in anxiety as he was presented to the Capitol and flung into the arena. Justin played the crowds well. He was attractive and using his charming attitude and the politeness his mother had taught him since he was young, he managed to woo sponsors during his interview and the Games itself. Justin took only three lives during his time in the arena, a relatively small number for a victor. During the final three, he watched as the two remaining careers, a girl from One and a boy from Four turn on each other while he remained hidden. Eventually, the boy defeated his former ally, but the battle was evenly matched. Weakened, the boy from Four collapsed, which gave Justin the opportunity he needed. To the Calico family's relief, Justin came home alive, and not in a wooden box. For the most part, Justin was still the same son and brother they all adored. He was outgoing, adventurous, and very much a gentleman. Liz knew he experienced nightmares, at least once a week or more, but he never spoke of them, so she let them go. Justin offered to let them live in his mansion in Victor's Village, but Jackson and Liz declined, wanting to give their now-adult son space. Besides, they were content on their small subsistence farm, which was nestled a few miles away from Victor's Village and the district center.

Much of the three mile walk to the reaping was quiet, with little Daniel doing most of the talking. Daniel was only two when Justin was reaped, and couldn't remember a time where his oldest brother had still lived with them. The little boy was clueless about the Hunger Games, and Liz hoped he could remain so for at least a few more years. Let him live in innocence without fear for the family members that were eligible to be reaped.

Once they were in the square, Liz and Jackson were checked in quickly. Even Avi was asked to have her finger pricked, to ensure she wasn't a teenage mother trying to avoid the reaping.

"We'll see you at Justin's after the reaping," Jackson said to Avi. The girl nodded before taking Daniel's hand and heading into the crowd of bystanders. Meanwhile, Liz and Jackson separated into their appropriate sections.

While she was waiting, Liz's eyes fell upon the victors on stage. Besides Justin, there were three other surviving victors. The oldest was Geneva Ryser, who had won the sixty-seventh Games. Next to her sat Adler Shelton, the victor of the seventy-eighth Games. Justin often said Adler was the hardest of his fellow victors to get along with, as he was a grouch of a man. Next to Justin was Vernon Riesman, the overweight but kindly victor of the eighty-seventh Games. With a victor approximately every ten years, Liz suspected District Seven would have to go a few more years before they had another.

Cinnabar Thylos, District Seven's escort for the past ten years, stepped up to the podium at the mayor's introduction. Sin was one of the few Capitolites who chose to go with a natural look, with tanned skin, short, spiky dark brown hair, and blue eyes. Liz had met him once, after Justin had come home. According to Justin, Sin was a likable man for the most part and easy to work with.

"Good day, District Seven," Sin said brightly. "It's once again the time of her to select one brave man and woman for the annual Hunger Games! Let's start with our lovely mothers." Sin stirred his hand around in the bowl and jerked out a slip. "Elizabeth Calico!"

"No!" rang out a voice behind Cinnabar. Liz's eyes widened as Justin leapt to his feet. "Sin, that's my mother! This isn't -" Justin was cut off as Geneva grabbed his arm, sternly shaking her head. Defeated, Justin took a seat, anger and fear brewing in his eyes. Balling her hands into fists, Liz slowly made her way towards the stage. She wanted to cry, but stopped herself, knowing she had four kids standing in the audience who would likely panic if they saw their mother break down. Once on stage, she avoided the eyes of her oldest child, not knowing if she could manage to hold herself together if she looked at him.

"What an honor!" Sin exclaimed joyfully. "Elizabeth Calico, the mother of our newest victor, Justin Calico! I'm sure you will prove to be as strong of a force as your son."

Liz swallowed, trying to prepare herself to speak. "I will fight to come home to my children," she said quietly into the microphone.

"Good, good! Now, let's meet your district partner." Sin reached deep into the fathers' bowl and withdrew a name. "Chase Aldreon!"

There was a commotion in the crowd of fathers as a man with shaggy black hair and brown eyes flecked with green tried to drag another man away from the stage while calling for someone named Lance. However, before he could get too far, two peacekeepers blocked his way. When one prodded him with the barrel of his gun, he let go of the other man's hand and turned towards the stage, holding his hands up in the air in surrender.

"That was quite the show there, Chase," Sin said as Chase joined him and Liz on stage. "Whatever were you doing?"

"Well, you see, Sin," Chase said, an impish grin spreading across his face. "I was only trying to stir things up. The reapings would be very boring if I just strolled up to the stage with a stoic expression on my face, wouldn't they?"

Liz didn't believe his story for a second. Sin, however, laughed. "Too true, Chase, too true! I'm sure you'll be entertaining in the Capitol as well. District Seven, you're tributes, Elizabeth Calico and Chase Aldreon! Shake hands you two!"

Chase offered Liz a nervous smile and stuck out his hand. She took it, and they shook, sealing their partnership in representing District Seven in the Hunger Games. A few minutes later, she was lightly shoved into a room in the justice building, left to say her goodbyes.

Not much time passed before the Calico family flooded in. The twins barrelled into Liz's arms, while Avi hovered back, tears streaming down her face. Jackson came in last, carrying a confused Daniel in his arms.

"I can't believe this! I thought we were safe! Justin's a victor!" Melody said, shedding as many tears as her sister.

"Yeah," Josh chimed in. "It's not fair. But Mom can win! Justin will help her. Justin can do anything!"

"Justin's still mentoring?" Liz asked her husband.

Jackson nodded. "He insisted. I think Vernon offered to take his place, since mentoring your own family can't be easy for anyone, let alone someone who only has a year of mentoring under his belt, but Justin refused."

Liz nodded. In all honestly, she hated the idea of her son feeling pressured to keep her safe. As his mother, it was her job to keep him and his siblings safe. Not the other way around. She knew if she were lost to the arena, Justin would never forgive himself, even if there was nothing he could have done to save her.

"You can do this, Liz," Jackson said. "You and Justin have different strengths, so working together, you can get out. We believe in you."

Liz spent the rest of her time, hugging each member of the family, reminding them that she loved them and promising that she'd try her best to come home. Her family left, confident that their mother and wife would come home to them. Liz knew she had to have faith. She would come home to her children.

 **Author's Note: Finally done with the reapings! That feels nice! I hope you all are excited as I am.**

 **Please note that I am clearly not a doctor, and therefore have little knowledge of genetic diseases. Scalapino's Disease is one of my own creation, so hopefully it is realistic enough. :) In short, think of it as sort of a mix between Parkinson's and Alzheimer's that affects small children, in which the body actually "forgets" how to function and eventually shuts down on itself.**

 **Also, the collab is up! It is on CelticGames4's profile under Champion of Destruction, so check that out if you wish. :)**


	9. Chapter 7: Train Rides Part 1

**Chapter 7: Train Rides: Part 1**

 **Arista Lazuli, District Two female, 31 -** _ **MidnightRaven323**_

Arista was in a sour mood. She wasn't meant to be here. In a district like Two, no one should ever have to be reaped into the Games against their will. Yet, here she was. As she followed Amare onto the train, Arista realized she shouldn't complain, though. She wasn't sure which victors would be mentoring this year, but she was certain all District Two victors took pride in Two's decades old volunteering tradition. Justus Fiore, her strongly built district partner, had been a volunteer, and he looked as though he wanted to plunge straight into the arena. Although Arista never intended to be involved in the Hunger Games beyond her job as a part-time trainer at one of the smaller career schools, she was far from weak, and didn't want to do anything that would tell Justus, Amare, and her mentor otherwise.

As she boarded the train, Arista pushed all bitter thoughts towards her husband out of her mind in attempt to gather her focus. Slate Lazuli was the main assistant to the mayor, and therefore had a lot of influence in the District. Married out of convenience, Slate and Arista's relationship was loveless. In addition, they were constantly battling over how to best raise their twelve-year-old son, Cassander. Slate wanted an heir, a warrior or a peacekeeper, someone who would be of importance. Arista believed the boy should be allowed to make his own choices and be himself. It was a messy situation, and Arista wouldn't have been surprised if Slate hadn't been involved with rigging the reaping somehow, in order to have full control over Cassander.

"Alright, Justus, Arista! Here we are," Amare said as the train car doors closed behind them. "Your mentors, Junia Rhodes and Lucius Allen, are in the next car. I assume you know of them."

"Of course I do," Justus replied. "I know the names of all one-hundred victors."

Arista fought the urge to roll her eyes. Either Justus couldn't count, or he was arrogant enough to already be counting himself as the one-hundredth victor. She guessed the latter.

Amare lead the pair to the next car, where a man and a woman waited for them. One of them, Lucius Allen, was a man of about twenty-five years old. For a District Two victor, he was on the smaller side, standing at about five-foot-eight. His hair was dark and messy, his brown eyes full of mischief. Lucius was the second-most recent victor, winning after snatching the position away from the chosen volunteer, Gallus Catalani, who ended up winning the following year.

The second mentor, Junia Rhodes, was a woman of about Arista's age. About average height and muscular, Junia's dark brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulder. Her skin was tanned, and her eyes were nearly black. Arista didn't know much about the victor of the eighty-sixth Games, but she did know that her cousin, Domitia, was also a victor.

"Justus Fiore!" Junia said, a smirk forming on her lips. "We meet again. I'll take you. You are Lucius would clash too much."

"Hey!" Lucius jumped in. "You don't know that! I'm great. Who wouldn't like me?"

"You volunteered at sixteen _out of turn,_ robbing Gallus Catalani of his honor! Dozens of people don't like you, Allen," Justus sneered.

"Oh, what's the big deal? He just volunteered the next -"

"See what I mean?" Junia said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Justus, we're finding another car."

"Fine," Justus said, still glaring at Lucius. The younger man seemed amused, however, grinning widely as though Justus had just told a joke.

"I'll stay here, but I'll check on you soon! My guidance is just as important as the mentors'!" Amare chimed in. However, Junia and Justus were already gone.

Lucius snorted. "Of course you are."

"It's the truth!" Amare argued. "My presence is extremely important. If you fail to realize that, it's not my problem."

"Look, this is all well and good, but I'd appreciate if you'd stick to the task at hand, which is preparing me for the Games."

"Ah yes," said Lucius. "Arista Lazuli. The first District Two tribute to be reaped in over eighty years, not counting the first quell, and Enobaria, I guess. Even they would have been volunteers, though."

Arista frowned. "Just because I am not a volunteer doesn't mean you can write me off as useless. I trained as a teenager and now have a part-time career as a trainer myself. I may not be a traditional career, but I can assure you, Lucius, I intend to be just as strong of a force as Justus and the tributes from One and Four."

"Now, I wasn't saying that. You're from Two, and that makes you _better_ than the tributes from One and Four, even if they are volunteers. Besides, doll, you have one thing Justus doesn't have, a pretty face."

Part of Arista was annoyed at Lucius's comment as she wondered if she'd be stuck with a sexist pig for a mentor. The other part of her couldn't help but swell with pride. In her early twenties, Arista had considered herself to be fairly beautiful, with her toned build, ash brown hair, high cheek bones, and hazel blue eyes. In recent years though, her insecurities had slowly, but steadily, began to grow, especially when her husband eyed younger women.

"You should be easy to gain sponsors for," Amare added. "I did a spectacular job of collecting sponsors last year. Nero and Theodora had tons of sponsor gifts by the end. You can't say it was my fault they lost to District One. That was all on them."

"They were stupid," Lucius agreed. "Speaking of stupid people, it's about time to see your competition."

The three of them walked into the neighboring car, where Justus and Junia had already turned one the screen. Currently, the female from Four had just arrived on stage.

"I can't believe this," Justus growled. "The Four female was reaped as well. What is with these women?!"

Arista chose to act like she hadn't heard the comment. In reality, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be a part of the career alliance in the first place. For now, they seemed like the most reasonable option, but she would keep her eye open for other opportunities if they presented themselves. Fortunately, the male, Marin, was a volunteer as expected. Arista wasn't sure Justus wouldn't be able to stop himself from storming out or breaking something if he wasn't.

The group spent the rest of their two hour ride to the capitol watching the reapings as they occurred. Arista watched as Justus scoffed at each one and listened to him ramble about how easy it was going to be to take each and every one of them out. Meanwhile, Arista held back a sigh. This was going to be a long Games.

* * *

 **Marin Zale, District Four Male, 20 -** _ **david12341**_

Although less than half an hour had passed since Marin had last seen Apollo, he still missed his son. Apollo was nearly twenty months old, and had been growing so quickly. Like his father, he had sea green eyes, but while Marin's hair was light brown, Apollo's was blonde like his mother's. He was a happy little boy, reminding Marin so much of himself. Ever since Anat, Marin's ex-girlfriend who had wanted to send the baby to the orphanage after she had gotten pregnant, made him choose between her and Apollo, Marin had never regretted keeping his boy. He supposed they were better off without her. Apollo was now the best part of his life, and he was the reason Marin had volunteered. Even still, he hated to be away from him.

Marin was startled out of his thoughts when Deimos, the escort, through his arms around him and Meridian as they walked to the train. "Whoa there!" said Meridian, wiggling out of Deimos grasp. "Hands to yourself, buddy!"

"Someone's fiery, isn't she? As you should be in preparation for the Games! You'll fit right in with your mentors, Zale Zuccola and Cascade Marshall! Especially since your last name is Zale, Marin."

Marin chuckled. "So it is. I'm glad we'll have something in common."

The train doors opened, revealing said mentors standing in the doorway. "Welcome! Come in and take a seat," called the slightly older of the two, thirty-nine-year-old Cascade. The victor of the seventy-ninth Games light brown hair fell to her shoulders in bouncy curls, and her green eyes shown with myschief. She was strongly built, something she had used to advantage in the Games. Since she had won the year he was born, Marin didn't know much about the third-most recent victor's Games, but he did know she had caused quite a bit of chaos, manipulating her alliance of Careers to turn on each other.

Cascade's mentoring partner, Zale, won just four years after she did, and as a result, the only time Marin had seen him perform was in reruns. Zale wasn't popular with some of the die-hard Games fanatics in the district, as they claimed he had won as a lucky freeloader who let his alliance do most the dirty work. Zale, however, didn't seem to let nasty comments bother him, as he was known for being loud and boastful. The thirty-four-year-old had light brown skin and dark brown eyes. His black hair was unruly, and he had allowed a scruffy beard and moustache to grow in.

"Meridian Vale and Marin Zale," Zale said, flashing them a friendly smile. "The tributes with rhyming names. Welcome. I'm Zale Zuccola, as you know, and that's Cascade Marshall."

"Call me Cass," The older victor added. "No one calls me Cascade, Zale."

Zale shrugged. "Just trying to be polite. Anyway, I just have to be your mentor, Marin, since we have the same name."

"Fine with me," Marin said. He knew Zale and Cass were both likely capable mentors, even if Zale had yet to bring home a tribute, and he saw no need to rock the boat.

"If it's alright with the pair of you, we'd like to mentor you together, for the most part," Cass said. "It's less work that way."

"I'm fine with that, too," said Marin, looking to Meridian for her approval.

She shrugged. "I don't see why not. You seem likable."

Marin smiled a little. "Thanks. You too."

"Well, that was easy," Zale said. "Come on, let's go to the dining car."

"Oh goody!" chimed in Deimos. "May I come too?"

"No," said Cass, rolling her eyes. "Of course you can. We're not going to lock you out."

Deimos laughed. "Just thought I'd be polite and ask. Who knows, you might be doing something weird in there that you would want to keep a secret."

"Sorry, we're boring."

The five of them headed to the train car, where they each took a seat. Even though it wasn't quite eleven o'clock, the table was loaded with food, with everyting from pancakes to lobster to pie to delicacies Marin couldn't even identify.

"So, Marin, you're a volunteer," Zale stated. "Do you mind explaining your reasoning? You seem young, so if you were planning on volunteering, why not do it in a normal year?"

"Well, you're right, I am young, twenty to be exact. I was planning on volunteering two years ago, but my ex-girlfriend got pregnant with my son, Apollo. She didn't want to be a mother, and instead wanted to send him to an orphanage, but I wanted to raise him. He's my own flesh and blood, after all, and I couldn't abandon him. So when Anat gave me the choice between being with her and raising my boy, I chose Apollo. My parents weren't happy with my decision, but they agreed to let Apollo and me stay with them until I turned twenty, at which point, I'd be forced out. Then, when the quell was announced two months shy of my twentieth birthday, I still had no job and no money. At that point, my parents and I struck a deal. If I volunteered for the Games, they would look after Apollo until I could get back. If I didn't, Apollo and I would be homeless until I could find a job. Obviously, I did what was best for my son. I know there's a chance that I may never see him again, but I have faith that I can win."

Zale nodded. "Interesting. A bit of a unique reason, but I would definitely play up the story of being a single dad fighting for his kid for the sponsors. Maybe twist the tale a little bit and say that you want some glory for yourself as well. We'll discuss it more later. What about you, Meridian. I know you were reaped, but that means nothing. Our last victor, Nimue, was a reaped tribute, after all. Do you have training?"

She shook her head. "I never saw the point, and my parents didn't force me. I never thought I'd be reaped. I'm strong, though, both physically and mentally, and I can learn quickly. I'm energetic and athletic, too. I can hold my own out there."

"Sure, we can work with that," said Cass. "Do either of you want allies? Career pack, maybe? Totally up to you. Zale and I both benefited off our allies, so we'd recommend them, but you should do what you're comfortably with."

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Meridian replied. "If I did ally, probably someone quieter who wouldn't annoy me or betray me and has a brain on them."

"I'm on the same page," Marin admitted. "I know I don't want to ally with the Careers. I don't trust them. If I had an ally, I would make sure I could trust them and that they were useful to me, possessing skills that I didn't."

"Yeah, I want to stay away from Careers, too. They're way too shady."

"Watch who you're talking to," joked Deimos. "These are Career victors here."

"Yeah! I'm offended!" Cass said, but she was beaming.

Zale merely shrugged. "To each their own. My alliance caused me to excel, but I would have won without them. Ultimately, though, the decision to ally and with whom needs to be your choice. Just don't piss off the Career pack too much by declining. That's suicide."

"So I shouldn't spit in their faces," Marin said, feeling his old self, the jokester that was pre-Apollo, creep back in. It was a good feeling. Since Anat left him, combined with the stress of becoming a father and his parents' constant pressure on him, Marin's joking nature had been slipping away, replaced with a more reserved attitude. At heart though, he was still a fun-loving jokester, though that side of him tended to show itself less nowadays.

Zale barked out a loud laugh. "No. That would be bad."

"I agree," Cass added. "Awful idea. We'll talk more about what to do instead later. For now, let's catch up on some of the reapings. We're still about an hour and a half to go before we arrive, so let's get busy before we start twiddling our thumbs and having staring contests with each other."

"Sounds like fun," said Deimos, "but not productive. Follow me, District Four."

With that, the dark blue-haired escort trotted into the next car, with the mentors, Meridian, and Marin following close behind.

* * *

 **Ivory Spinel, District One female, 19, xxbookwormmockingjayxx**

Valor wouldn't shut up. He rambled on and on about how he finally was being presented with the opportunity to be in the Games after another boy had beat him to it when he was eighteen. Ivory rolled her eyes. This man needed to let go of the past. He looked to be twice her age, and wouldn't have had this chance at all if it weren't for the twist.

Valor wasn't looking at her, but Disrael Ennee, more often reffered to as Dizzy, the escort for District One for the previous One years, noticed her annoyance. "Young lady, why are you rolling your eyes? Valor is only bringing honor to District One. You should be ashamed for not doing so yourself, being reaped like an outer district tribute."

Anger bubbled up inside Ivory, but she held it back. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the one who drew my name," she said calmly. "You did. It's not my fault no one volunteered. I'm sorry I'm not as excited for the Games as Valor is, but I still trained, and finished at the Training Center just a year ago, so everything I learned there is still fresh in my mind. You'll find I'm just as capable as the other careers, as well as younger."

"As long as you prove yourself in training, I won't count you out," said Valor.

"I intend to do so."

"Well, at least you have the attitude of a Career now. I do hope you don't let your district and the Capitol down," said Dizzy as the train car doors slide open and she delicately stepped inside in her platform heels. As far as escorts were concerned, the woman wasn't dressed too outrageously. Her dark brown skin and black hair were covered in glitter, but her eyes were a simple dark brown. Her top lip seemed to be downsized while her bottom lip was enlarged, and she had a gold piercing through her lip. Still, her appearance wasn't nearly as exotic as One's previous escort, who had different colored skin and hair each year and was known for her wide variety of brightly colored hats.

Dizzy led Ivory and Valor through the train to where the mentors, Midas Karlen and Unity Quisenberry, were waiting. The older of the two, Unity, was only twenty-five, and had won the ninety-third Games at eighteen. Like many female victors from One, Unity was considered to be of great beauty, with long blonde hair that was often left unruly unless the circumstances demanded otherwise, as well as blue eyes and tanned skin. She was tall as well, standing at five feet and ten inches. She had a confidence about her that Ivory couldn't help but admire.

Midas looked more nervous, however. He was only nineteen, Ivory's age, and had won just one year previous. Ivory had never met him before, and suspected they had attended different training centers, with Midas most likely attending the Academy his last few years of training, which was the facility through which most volunteers were selected. An inch or so shorter than Unity, Midas was muscular and stocky and had the common District One blue eyes and dark blonde hair. He also had a light stubble growing in.

"Midas Karlen!" Valor greeted, acting as though he knew the young man. "You and I need to have a chat about my daughter."

Midas turned bright red. "Oh, uh… which daughter, Sir?"

"You know which, Mr. Karlen. Flair."

"What's this?" asks Unity, nosing into a discussion that clearly wasn't her business. "You two know each other?"

Valor nodded. "Karlen here was one of my students at my training center when he was growing up, before I passed him onto the Academy." He slapped the younger man on the back a few times. "I'm quite proud of him. Although, that's not want I want to speak to him about. I caught him romantically involved with my eldest daughter, Flair. Come on boy, let's have a chat."

Midas swallowed hard, but nodded, leading his former trainer into another car. Dizzy, meanwhile, went off on her one, leaving Ivory alone with Unity.

"Well, then," said the victor. "That was interesting, to say the least. I'm Unity Quisenberry, you're mentor. Would you like to take a seat here, or somewhere else? The ride to the Capitol is very short, only about thirty minutes. We'll be able to settle in before you have to head to the remake center, but we'll have a chat here if that's alright with you."

"Here's fine," Ivory said, taking a seat in a plush arm chair. An Avox handed her a glass of water, and she awkwardly gave him a nod.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Ivory," Unity began. "This is only my seventh year mentoring, and until now, I've only mentored volunteers. However, I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you out of that arena."

Ivory nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me until I've succeeded. Now, the first thing I should know is whether or not you have trained, and if so, for how long."

"I trained since the age of eleven, quitting a year ago at eighteen. I never wanted to volunteer for the Games, but I enjoyed it because it was a great way to stay in shape."

"Understandable. At the reaping, you mentioned a newborn daughter. Tell me about her."

Ivory hesitated, not sure where to begin. "Well, her name is Estella, and she's three weeks old. I never planned on having her, and I'm still trying to learn the ropes of being a mother."

Ten months previous. Ivory would have never imagined she would be in this position. She had been eighteen, and just about to finish graduate from her training program. Ivory's family wasn't the richest, but they were far from poor, and she was content with her life. She worked with her mother as a jeweler, and had the perfect boyfriend, Jasper. When it came to sex, she had wanted to save herself for marriage, but that all changed when she and Jasper became intoxicated at a party, and Ivory lost her virginity. At first, she was merely disappointed with herself, but wasn't concerned until her period was late. Terrified, she didn't tell anyone for months, not even her best friend Sapphire. When she did admit her pregnancy to her loved ones, Jasper left her. Her parents had been slightly furious, but had since forgiven her, promising to support her. They were the one's currently watching Estella, her tiny, newborn daughter. In all honesty, Ivory was overcome with fear over what motherhood would bring, and whether or not she could be a good parent to Estella. Now, here she was, snatched away from her baby after only three weeks. Of course, she would never admit her fears to a total stranger like Unity. If she was to get to know Estella, she would have to be strong and fight.

"Right. Now, you're nineteen, correct." Ivory nodded. "You could use that for sponsors, if you want. A young mother wanting to return home to raise her newborn baby."

"Well, yes, but I also want them to know I'm ambitious, too."

"Also a good strategy. Keep in mind, though, anything that sets you apart from tributes who also are parents is something you want to share."

"Alright," Ivory said, storing that piece of information in the back of her mind.

For the next few minutes, Unity explained what would happen once they arrived in the Capitol, before finally, a voice crackled onto the intercom.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen! We have arrived in the Capitol! Sit tight, and we will stop shortly! Thank you."

"Here we are," said Unity. "Welcome to the Capitol."

Ivory glanced out the window and marveled at the glorious buildings, wishing she were in the city to enjoy herself and do some shopping. Alas, she was here for another reason, to participate in a death match, and she knew she had to focus on reality if she wanted to return to this place without fearing for her life.

* * *

 **Maddox Hazeldine, District Six Male, 39 -** _ **Emrys Holmes**_

Maddox had never seen anyone with so much energy as the yellow escort leading him to the train had. Francis was like an overexcited puppy, prancing around Maddox and Calissa as he chatted. The man was younger than both of them, probably about nineteen or twenty.

"This is my first year," chirped Francis. "So that's exciting! Noa should be a pro at this by now, though, since this is her fifth year mentoring. I met her at the reaping, and she's as amazing in person as she is on screen!"

Although he lived in District Six, Maddox had never stepped foot on a train, and was surprised by how furnished and luxurious the interior of each car they passed through seemed. Rather than working in the trains, Maddox worked on the outside, constructing and repairing railroads. Although he was content in his job, being on a train was a unique experience. Too bad it wasn't under better circumstances.

When Maddox, Calissa, and Francis entered the dining car, they found District Six's only living victor, Noa Ernest. The twenty-three-year-old victor was settled in a chair at the head of the table, sipping on a glass of water. She stood as they came in.

"Welcome," the victor said, shaking their hands. "I'm Noa Ernest, your only mentor. First off, I want you to know that I'm willing to put in twice the work of any other victor to make sure one of you get out of the arena alive. Six has had a bleak outlook in recent years, with either having incompetent mentors, or none at all. I want to change that. Another fact you should know about me is that I'm bigender, which means I have two gender identities. In my case, that's female and agender. I'm just letting you know that you can use either she and her or they and them pronouns for me, but try to vary them a bit. If you have any more questions about my gender identity, feel free to ask, but for now, I'm going to focus on helping you both through this. Before we begin, would you like to be mentored separately or together? To tell you the truth, you'd make this a hell of a lot easier of a job for me if I can mentor you together, but it's up to you."

Maddox looked at Calissa, who nodded. "Sounds fine to me."

"Me too," Maddox agreed. "It makes sense. I wouldn't want to make more work for you, and I don't really have any secrets I want to keep hidden."

"Good. Why don't we start by telling me a little bit about yourselves. Calissa, why don't you start?"

Maddox listened as his district partner explained how she and her husband were separated, and how his five-year-old son suffered from the terminal illness known as Scalapino's Disease. Although being reaped was bad enough, Maddox imagined having a sick child made the whole situation ten times worse. He didn't want to think of what would happen in one of his kids fell ill.

"That's horrible!" Francis exclaimed. "How tragic!"

"I'm sorry," said Noa, their brown eyes soft. "I wish there was something I could do for you, but as there is no cure…"

"I know," Calissa said quietly. "Not even me winning the Games will help him. No amount of money in Panem can buy my son his life back."

After hearing Calissa's story, speaking about himself felt awkward, and he ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Well, I'm Maddox, and I'm married to a wonderful man named Warren, taking his last name. We both work as railroad construction workers, which is how we met. We then adopted two children. Alasdair, the oldest, is fifteen, and Giselle is eleven. Warren and I are paid well at our jobs, so we're fairly well-off."

"Okay. Let's head into the other car now. We have quite a ways to go before we hit the Capitol, so we might as well watch the rest of the reapings, and then the recaps."

The group took seats in the plush arm chairs and sofas in a neighboring car, with Francis and Maddox squished together on a sofa and Calissa and Noa each settling into an arm chair. With everyone in place, Francis turned on the screen.

"Do you have paper and a pen?" Maddox asked.

"Right here," said Noa, handing a single sheet and blue pens to both him and Calissa. Take whatever notes you want."

On screen, the Distict Nine escort was just about to call up the tributes. As the names were drawn, Maddox decided to write down things that stuck out about each tributes, and whether or not they would make a good choice for a possible ally. The woman, according to the message on the bottom of the screen, was forty-five year-old Saffron Jameson. She had red hair, green eyes, and had tears rolling down her face.

 _District Nine_

 _Female: Saffron Jameson. 45. Frail and weak. Teary-eyed. Could be considered if she recovers and demonstrates trustworthiness._

The male was a thirty-six-year-old named Zane Oupfield. Like his district partner, Zane was also crying. His appearance was rough as well, with his shaggy black hair that was messier than Maddox's own, and his thin, malnourished body.

 _Male: Zane Oupfield. 36. Much like Saffron. Same can be said for him._

After a commercial break, the broadcast returned to the District Ten tributes. The female was a dark-skinned twenty-six-year-old with curly hair named Lil Carey. After giving a baby to the woman beside her and gently pushing a little girl back into the crowd, she made it to the stage without incident.

 _District Ten_

 _Female: Lil Carey. 26. Looks decently fed. Seems calm, a loving mother. Definitely should be considered._

The father pulled was muscular man with dark brown hair and eyes. His name was Hector Jackson, and he was thirty-five years old. Francis cried out in shock as the man slugged a peacekeeper and spit at the camera.

 _Male: Hector Jackson. 35. Strong, but seems impulsive and irrational. Probably not the best choice, but will keep an eye on him._

"Would anyone like wine?" Francis asked as a commercial came on screen.

Noa shook their head. "I don't drink."

"No, thanks," said Calissa.

Maddox agreed. "I'm fine."

"Suit yourselves," Francis said. He disappeared, returning just as District Eleven's escort drew the female name.

Circe Banks, a sobbing, thirty-seven-year-old, stepped out of the crowd. She stood on stage, unable to stop her sobs as her district partner was called on stage.

 _District Eleven_

 _Female: Circe Banks. 37. Sobbing, weak. Much like 9 tributes. Possibly consider._

The male, a forty-year-old named Victor Mackall, was also hysterical. Maddox scribbled down the same information for him as he did for Circe.

At two o'clock, the last reapings, those for District Twelve, rolled around. The female was young, eighteen-year-old Luciel Furorum. A peacekeeper was on the ground by the time the young woman mounted the stage.

 _District Twelve_

 _Female: Luciel Furorum. 18. Strong-willed, violent. Not to be ruled out yet._

Luciel's district partner was much calmer, to say the least, although he too, had tears streaming down his face. His name was Joshua Yates, and he was thirty-three. As he walked to the stage, three children attempted to run out to him, while another man stepped out from his place to hold them back.

 _Male: Joshua Yates. 33. Crying, but fairly calm. Clearly loved by his children. A possibility._

As the pair were escorted into the justice building, the scenery of District Twelve faded away and was replaced by the face of the Master of Ceromonies, Simone Silver.

"Good afternoon, Panem!" The young woman said cheerfully. "The reapings have passed, but we haven't reached the end yet! Stay tuned for the recaps with commentary from myself and Games Announcer Nero Walters after the break."

"Stretch time!" Francis said. "Take time now before it starts up again!"

Maddox wondered how Capitolites could sit through such long sessions of broadcasting without getting bored. After only four districts, it seemed like he had been there for a half a day. Fortunately, the ride to the Capitol was long, so Maddox had nothing better to do but watch and learn.

 **Author's Note: Hi all! I've had a busy month since the last update, working two jobs, combined with going on a week long camping trip last week. So sorry for the delay. A bit of an uneventful chapter, but hopefully you got to learn a bit more about these four. More recaps will be shown next chapter.**

 **Also, CelticGames4 and I are still looking for more tributes for our collab, so feel free to check that out!**


	10. Chapter 8: Train Rides part 2

**Author's Note: I forgot to mention this, but Dizzy, the District One escort, was submitted by kariiwilliams121. District Twelve's escort, Agustino Brubeck, was submitted by stuckahomebgs. Thanks to those two for them. :)**

 **Chapter 8: Train Rides and Arrivals**

 **Joshua Yates, 33, District Twelve Male -** _ **CrissKenobie-theNumenorian**_

After losing Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta all in the same year, District Twelve had been without a mentor. In fact, in twenty-five years, no District Twelve tribute had ever come close to winning. To make matters worse, the atmosphere in the train was tense and awkward. The escort, who Joshua supposed doubled as their mentor, was a man in his late thirties by the name of Agustino Brubeck. His appearance looked as though he should be escorting for District Four, with his black hair and beard tinged blue. His eyes were seafoam green, as well as the earrings that dangled from his ears. In addition, his arms were tinted a mixture of deep and light blues, and seafoam green. Agustino could be considered a quirky man, and he loved to talk. Unfortunately, his personality seemed to clash horribly with Joshua's district partner.

Luciel, or Lucy as she had insisted on being called, seemed to have absorbed all the bitterness and hatred in the world into one body. Already, she had snapped at Joshua for "staring at her fucking burns", and screamed at Agustino to shut his "over-privileged mouth." Joshua normally saw himself as someone who was easy to get along with, but honestly, he was a bit terrified of Lucy, even though she looked to be around his seventeen-year-old daughter's age. Evvy was a sweet, quiet girl, who probably wouldn't be sure what to make of Lucy either.

At the thought of his oldest daughter, Joshua struggled not to break down into tears again. He missed Evvy more than he missed anyone before. Not only was she his daughter, but also his best friend. The two had a bond like no other. Besides her, he also missed his other children, ten-year-old Hazel and five-year-old Vigo. Perhaps most of all, he missed his husband. He needed Gabriel, who was a constant, calming presence in his life. When Joshua had a panic attack just an hour previous in the Justice Building, quaking with thick, blinding sobs, Gabriel had been the one to calm him down by holding him in his arms and whispering encouragement in his ear until he could give their children a proper goodbye. If Joshua could take his husband into the arena as a living token, without risking his life, he probably would. He just didn't know what he was going to do without them.

Joshua, Lucy, and Agustino lined themselves up in front of the screen not long after boarding the train. Agustino and Lucy couldn't look anymore different. Lucy had a scowl fixed upon her face, while Agustino sat on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

On screen, Master of Ceremonies Simone Silver and Games Announcer Nero Walters chatted away happily. Well, Simone was chatting. Nero sat stoic in his chair, adding an occasional comment. The pair had totally different appearances and personalities, yet they still managed to work well together. The twenty-five-year-old was young and fresh, coming into the position three years previous after Caesar Flickerman retired. Simone had smooth, light brown skin and warm brown eyes. Her wavy hair was naturally black, but halfway down was dyed deep blue with silver tips. She wore little makeup beyond her dark red lipstick and black mascara. She was a loud and lively woman, known for bringing her interviews to life quickly.

Her companion, Nero, was a solemn man in his early forties. His unnaturally orange hair was combed back with far too much gel, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes were emerald green and lacked any type of emotion. He normally let Simone do the talking, sometimes even seeming uncomfortable in front of the camera. He had been in his position for nineteen years, and hadn't changed much since.

"Now it's just about time to watch these recaps!" Simone said. "I hope all of you at home are as excited as Nero and I are! I feel we have an excellent tributes this year, so let's get started with the luxury district."

Surprisingly, the female was reaped. It was a young woman, nineteen-year-old Ivory Spinel. Joshua couldn't help but feel bad for her.

"How interesting! She's barely old enough to be out of the reaping. A reaped tribute too! I would have never guessed that would happen in District One."

"Yes, it is rather unusual," Nero agreed.

The father was a volunteer. Valor Acosta was a lean, but muscular man with close-cropped dark hair and a scruffy beard, brown eyes, and tanned skin. He looked intimidating, which was to be expected from a Career District.

"Now we have Valor Acosta, a volunteer as per usual," said Simone. "Look at those muscles! He certainly looks proud to represent his district, doesn't he?"

Nero nodded. "As he should."

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to keep an eye on him. Let's move on to the masonry district and see what they have to offer us."

Like District One, the mother was reaped. "Whoa! Now that's odd! " commented Agustino from his place in his chair.

Simone seemed to agree. "Another reaped tribute from a district that traditionally volunteers! That's highly unusual. I wouldn't count Arista Lazuli out though. She seems very strong-willed."

"Indeed," said Nero. "It is far too early for that."

The male was another volunteer, a powerful looking brute named Justus Fiore. "There we are," said Simone. "This is more the tribute we're used to seeing from District Two. I wouldn't want to run into him in the arena." Neither would Joshua, but he didn't really want to run into Arista either, or even Ivory for that matter.

"On to the technology district!" Simone cheered as the screens changed. The woman reaped was Volustre Eckhart. She had thick black hair and brown skin and trembled as she walked to the stage.

"Based off the reapings, I'd say she has a fighting chance. At twenty-nine, she's fairly young, but not too young, and that can work to her advantage. She seems a bit shaken, but not too bad. I wouldn't count her out yet."

"I have seen worse," added Nero.

The father, Niels Bundar, was older, fifty-one-years-old according to the screen. His round, bright blue eyes were full of worry and he made his way to the stage.

"Here we have our oldest tribute so far" Simone noted. "At fifty-one-years-old, I wonder if Mr. Bundar will be at a disadvantage due to his age, or a strong asset to have due to his wisdom and experience."

"Most likely the former. He appears thin and weak, and just because person is from District Three doesn't necessarily mean they are wise," Nero said.

"We can't know that he's not just by looking at him."

"Of course not, but we can't say that he is, either."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see. Now, on to our Fishing district." Simone gasped dramatically. "Oh my! Another reaped female from a district that often volunteers. Now, District Four doesn't always have two volunteers for their tributes, but it is still a surprise just the same."

"Who would volunteer for this hellhole anyway?" Lucy muttered.

"Sh!" hissed Agustino. "I'm trying to _listen_."

Lucy glared at him. "I don't give a fuck what you're trying to do."

"Language!" the escort snapped. "I don't like your attitude. You are being very rude, and I demand you shape up your act!"

"You're not my boss."

"You know what, I'm done. I want to hear."

The woman called to the stage was Meridian Vale, a twenty-nine-year-old with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and cinnamon skin. Joshua watch with wide eyes as she caused a commotion, punching a Peacekeeper in the face. Even Lucy seemed interested.

"She's got guts," said Lucy.

"Guts?! Her behavior is inappropriate and reckless!" argued Agustino. Lucy ignored him.

The male tribute was a twenty-year-old volunteer named Marin Zale with sea green eyes and light brown hair.

"He's definitely attractive, and in good shape as tributes from District Four often are. I hope he makes it far," Simone said.

"He's young as well, which should help with the sponsors."

"Indeed. Well, it's time for a short break. We'll be right back after these messages."

A commercial for a cosmetic surgeon flashed onto the screen, causing Lucy to scowl at the images of unnatural faces. Joshua decided not to pay attention and let his mind wander. So far, the other tributes, at least the ones from One, Two, and Four, did not seem comforting. Even the women who were reaped looked intimidating. Joshua took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to escape the image of meeting any of them in the arena.

How was he ever going to make it out of this?

* * *

 **Hector Jackson, District Ten Male, 35** _**\- calebbeers21**_

Considering the fact that Hector was on a journey to his potential death, the mood wasn't as dismal as he thought it might be. In fact, it could easily be a lot worse. Although his district partner, a twenty-nine-year-old woman named Lil Carey boarded the train with slightly puffy eyes, she eventually cheered up a little and was able to have friendly conversations with Hector, the mentors, and the escort, Lysbeth. For a Capitolite, Lysbeth wasn't half bad. She seemed to have his and Lil's best interests in mind, constantly asking if she could do anything for them. She didn't even flinch when Arlo, Hector's mentor, ranted about Careers during the early reaping recaps, and even nodded along with him at some points.

The mentors were easy to get along with as well. Arlo Greenfield was the victor of the Ninetieth Games, and he had tan skin, spiky black hair, and light brown eyes. Though he had strong opinions, especially about Careers, Hector could see himself working well with him. Lil's mentor was Abilene Cooper. The sixty-four-year-old victor of the Fifty-second Games was stern and bossy, but she clearly just wanted Lil and Hector to succeed. The only other living Victor in Ten besides Arlo, Abi had short, graying hair and olive green eyes. She was thin and stood at an average height of five feet, five inches.

The group said quiet as the recaps rolled by on screen. Hector took mentally notes, considering who he may want for an ally. He would want someone strong and reliable, and guessed it was not too early to start looking.

The female from District Five was a forty-nine-year-old with blonde hair streaked with brown and bright blue eyes. She was fit, especially for her age, and looked as though she could be a valuable ally. Halfway to the stage, she suddenly froze and began to cry harder. Peacekeepers had to drag her to the stage.

"Next up we have Varia Staves," the Interviewer announced. "She looks to be physically strong, but emotionally, maybe not so much."

"What a shame," Nero said in a tone that suggested he actually didn't care at all.

Varia's district partner was a balding man name Seamon Deveir. He quivered as he walked to the stage, clearly in disbelief.

"Seamon here certainly isn't much to look at. At age forty-two, he's probably not likely to get many sponsors just by looks alone."

"He had better prove himself over the next few days," Nero added.

"Now we'll move on to the district of transportation," said Simone, and District Six appeared on screen.

The mother reaped was a twenty-six-year-old with shoulder-length light brown hair and wide brown eyes. Calissa Peer wailed as Peacekeepers pulled her and her son apart.

"Oh, how heartbreaking!" Simone looked genuinely sad for the young mother.

"Yes. I'm sure she has an interesting story to tell," said Nero. "She's sure to be a fighter."

The father selected was thirty-nine-year-old Maddox Hazeldine, a man who was only four years older than Hector. He was fairly calm as he walked to the stage. Hector planned to talk to Maddox soon and find out more about him.

"He's certainly composed," Simone noted.

Her companion nodded. "He is. That will serve him well."

"Now on to my personal favorite," said Simone. "District Seven, home of the lumberjacks."

Elizabeth Calico, a thirty-eight-year-old with long, dark hair and dark brown eyes, came to the stage. She was calm and quiet, but District Seven's newest Victor, Justin, wasn't so much.

"Oh my!" Simone said with a gasp. "A Victor's mother! I'm sure we all remember Justin Calico, Victor of the Ninety-eighth Hunger Games. I can only imagine how the family must be feeling."

"This is indeed an interesting addition to our list of tributes. We've had a few children of Victors before, and even Victors themselves in our last Quarter Quell, but of course, never a Victor's mother."

"We'll see if she manages to do as well as her son. Oh, I do hope she does."

When thirty-eight-year-old Chase Aldreon was reaped, he made a run for it. Though his efforts were fruitless, Hector admired him for taking a risk.

"And it appears we have a runner," Simone said. "You never know what will happen with them. Sometimes they are early deaths, and other times they prove to be fighters. I wonder which will Chase will be."

"Only one way to find out."

Simone nodded. "Next up, we have the textiles district, District Eight!"

Anita Lang was a woman with pale skin, dirty blonde hair, and dark blue eyes. She was thirty-seven-years-old, and trembled on her way to the stage.

"There really isn't anything too remarkable about Anita. Then again, District Eight tributes rarely are too special. They mostly tend to hover in the middle of the pack."

"That's probably why District Eight only has two living victors, Georgette Moore and Kente Conroy."

Hector couldn't help but agree. That didn't mean he wouldn't rule her out, though. He knew it was too early to rule anyone out, really.

The male who was called up on stage looked to be a complete mess. Forty-one-year-old Dresden Lume had pale skin, unruly dark hair, and sunken blue eyes. When he was reaped, he laughed bitterly and stumbled to the stage.

"He doesn't look too well," Simone said with a frown. "I wonder why he laughed when his name was called. I hope he's okay."

"Who cares?" Nero said. "I doubt he'll last long in the arena."

"Oh, Nero, don't write off tributes off so soon! That's not fair!"

He shrugged. "It's the truth."

"Alright, folks, it's time for another break, but don't go far. We'll be back in a moment."

The commercial break lasted almost ten minutes, and then Simone and Nero returned, commenting on the Tributes from District Nine. District Ten came up next, and Hector rewatched Lil's reaping. He glanced over at his district partner and watched as she stared at the floor rather than the screen. Then, he watched himself be reaped, and smiled when he saw himself spit at the camera.

"That was reckless, Hector," Arlo said, "but I like it."

Hector watched as Circe Banks and Victor Mackell were reaped, then Luciel Furorum and Joshua Yates from District Twelve. Then, the recaps were over, and Lysbeth turned off the screen.

"Arlight," said Arlo. "Time for advice. Abi and Lil can stay in here, while Hector and I can go to the next car. Sound good?"

All agreed, and Hector followed his mentor into the neighboring car, where two arm chairs awaited them. Arlo leaned back into one of them and crossed his arms, nodding at Hector to take the other.

"So, tell me about your kid, or kids, I guess."

Hector nodded. "Right. I just have one, a son named David. He's fifteen."

"What about the boy's mother?" asked Arlo.

"My wife, Angelica. She passed away five years ago." Hector frowned, thinking of the horrible way his wife was snatched away from him. Hatred towards the Capitol and injustice had brewed in him every since.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Where is your son staying?"

"With my twin brother, Isaac."

Arlo raised an eyebrow. "Isaac Jackson? As in the mayor?"

Hector nodded. "The very same."

"Interesting. Do you have a strategy in mind?"

"Yes, I do," Hector said. Indeed, Hector knew exactly how he wanted to play this Game. It wasn't going to be easy, but he had faith that he could pull it off.

"Good," said Arlo. "Then let's hear it."

* * *

 **Anita Lang, District Eight Female, 37 -** _ **youngpatriot**_

Anita could not understand how she ended up on a train to the Capitol. She understand how she got there physically, of course; Absalon, a young, twenty-one-year-old man with suspenders, a red bow tie with white polkadots, and glasses, had reaped her name. Stunned, but thankful her husband Derick was safe, Anita had said goodbye to her family, which included Derick and their five children. Though a few tears were spilled, Anita left her family as calm as someone reaped for the Hunger Games could be. Derick hadn't been reaped, and that was all that mattered. He could look after the children.

What Anita couldn't figure out was the reasoning behind her being chosen for death. Anita had complete faith in her God, and wondered if she or Derick had done something to offend Him. "God helps those who help themselves," was a motto she had lived by for most of her life. She worked hard for her family as a shift manager at a factory, doing her best to bring food to the table. She was a stern mother, trying to give her kids a better world than the one she lived in. Her God was fair and just, and anything bad that happened in life was meant to serve as His punishment. Anita believed this was the reason the districts were under the Capitol's cruel rule. They had probably done something long ago to offend God, and this was the way He punished them, such as when He had sent a great flood to destroy humanity thousands of years before Panem's existence, sparing only the family of Noah. Perhaps God wanted to reward her, and He would protect her during the Games, and when she won, she could use her money to give her family a better life and to feed her entire district for a year. If it was God's will, she would survive. Her wholehearted faith in Him is what kept her going now.

Anita sat across from her mentor, seventy-eight-year-old Georgette Moore. Georgie was a grandmotherly woman, with short, curly gray hair, pale blue eyes, and a chubby face. She was short in stature, standing about five inches below Anita's height of five-foot-seven. She was gentle and kind-hearted, and Anita found she could get along rather well with the elderly woman. She was more help then Kente Conroy, the Victor of the Eightieth Games who served as Dresden's mentor. He didn't seem to be helping the sickly-looking man at all, not that Dresden was making much of an effort to connect with him either. He had sat in his place as soon as he boarded the train, not making eye contact with anyone. Absalon suggested he go have a talk with Kente after the recaps finished, but the man just scowled and crossed his arms, muttering something under his breath. Kente didn't seem bothered; he just shrugged and said, "whatever you want. I'm here if you want me, but I'm not going to force you to talk to me. Have it your way."

"You know, you need to help yourself," Anita had prodded him. "Kente isn't going to do all of the work for you. If you want to make it out of the arena, you need to put in the effort."

"Fuck off," Dresden snarled. "Mind your own business."

Anita wasn't one to judge people just on first glance alone, but Dresden's attitude and cursing pushed her over the edge. She didn't want him to die, of course, but she knew there was no chance she'd be able to work with him. As she followed Georgie to another train car, she heard him say to Kente, "You really want to help? Find me a cigarette."

She hadn't stayed long enough to hear Kente's reply.

Georgie explained what would happen once they reached the Capitol. They would pull into the station and briskly make their way through the crowds of people. She told Anita it was up to her how she reacted to the crowd, but the elderly mentor recommended that since she was a mother in her late thirties to simply smile. Next to the irritated Dresden, a smile would probably seem like a bear hug to the Capitolites. Anita nodded along with all Georgie's advice. The mentor had been involved with with the Hunger Games for over sixty years, so Anita knew she must have known what she was talking about.

"How many children do you have, dear?" Georgie asked in attempt to make conversation.

"Five," answered Anita. "Walsh is the oldest at nineteen. He has a fiancee, Patricia that my husband and I just adore. I'm hopeful I'll become a grandmother not too long after their wedding. Erica is our second oldest at seventeen, and though we've hit some bumps over the years, we have a solid relationship. Sebastian is fourteen and keeps to himself no matter how hard I try to connect with him. Mimi is twelve, and spends a lot of time with Walsh and Patricia. My youngest is a little eight-year-old girl named Hope, who was a bit of a surprise, though welcome."

"I imagine they keeps you busy."

Anita nodded. "I don't see much of them during the day, because most of my time is spent at work. They don't need me for much besides being their provider. Making sure they are fed, clothed, and sheltered is the best gift I can give them."

"That is understandable," said Georgie. "Well, now that I know you a bit better, I suppose I should return the favor."

"Alright," Anita agreed. Then she gave a nod and turned her full attention towards the older woman.

"My full name is Georgette Moore, but Georgie is fine if you prefer. I am seventy-eight-years-old and won the thirty-eighth Hunger Games at age fifteen. I don't often refer to my time in the arena unless I think it will help others with their Games, but one fact I tend to remind tributes of is that I only took one life. I am not proud of that life I stole and prefer not to recall details about it, but I do like to show tributes who are afraid to kill that it is possible to win without much violence. It may not be easy, but sometimes luck does come into play. I may not be perfect, and like other Victors I do have good days and bad, but I will try my best to help you in the arena. I can only do so much though, something I'm sure you understand."

"Of course."

Georgie nodded, glancing out the window. "Good. It seems we have arrived in the Capitol. Are you ready?"

"With God with me, I'm ready for anything," Anita said, meaning every word. She felt braver knowing she could rely on God than she would if she had never known Him. She could do this.

* * *

 **Chase Aldreon, District Seven Male, 38 -** _**grimbutnotalways**_

"Alright everyone, we only have about fifteen minutes until we arrive in the Capitol, so that's exciting!" said District Seven's escort Cinnabar Thylos, or Sin, as the recaps concluded.

The other passengers didn't look quite as excited, Chase decided. His district partner, Liz Calico and her son, a Victor conversed quietly in the corner. Justin had be quite the wreck when his mother came aboard the train, pacing around and speaking to her in a frantic voice. He was calmer now, and although he acted like a gentleman towards Chase, it was clear he would favor his mother's life even if it meant throwing Chase to the wolves. Chase couldn't really blame him, though. He knew his son, Lance, would do the same for him.

With Justin mentoring his mother, Chase was left with Adler Shelton, mentor of the Seventy-eighth Hunger Games. Adler was just two years older than Chase, but in his opinion, the mentor was aging a lot worse than him. Chase thought he looked quite handsome, with long, messy black hair and brown eyes flecked with green. He was tall, about six foot two, and fairly skinny. Meanwhile, Adler's dark brown hair was rapidly graying. He had a pointed nose and large ears. The mentor was also about three inches shorter than Chase, as well as stockier. Chase's personality was also more sunny, as Adler was just rude and grouchy. All of Chase's jokes were met by snarky or sarcastic responses, and that was no fun at all.

"Look," cried Sin. "There it is! Chase and Liz, come see your first sights of the Capitol!"

Chase strolled over to the window and looked out as the train sped over a bridge of clear, pristine water. Towers spiraled into the sky, many of them reaching higher than District Seven's tallest trees. Everything shimmered in the light, made out of nothing but the finest glass and metal. Being from a district where almost all buildings were wooden, it was a bit overwhelming.

As the train entered the city limits, cheering Games enthusiasts could be seen lined up on either side of the tracks, people dressed in all different colors and styles. The further into the Capitol they travelled, the more nervous Chase became. He knew first impressions were important. Would the Capitolites see him as a potential Victor, or just another casualty of the Games.

He tried to imagine what Connor and Lance would say to him if they were with him. His boyfriend, Connor, would probably make some jokes in an attempt to cheer him up. Then he would get serious and say that he should just be himself. Lance would offer encouragement as well, as he did while visiting him in the Justice Building. The eighteen-year-old was a great kid, kind and responsible. Chase seriously wondered where he got it from. Certainly not his mother, Chase's ex-fiancee, Molly. Chase wasn't sure Lance was biologically his, anyway. Lance's lineage didn't matter, though, as it had been Chase, along with Connor later, who had raised the boy all eighteen years of his life.

The crowds thickened as the train began to slow. "Just smile and wave," said Sin. "They'll love you both! Especially, you Liz!"

They came to a halt at Capitol Station, and even now, Chase could hear the roar of the crowd despite the closed doors. When the doors slid open, the noise became even more deafening. "Here we go," Sin said in what Chase assumed was a normal volume, but he could barely hear him.

Sin lead the way off the train, making a path through the crowd of people. Chase faked an excited grin and followed next, waving wildly to the crowd. Liz, Justin and Adler trailed after him. The crowd screamed in delight as they walked by, calling out Justin's and Liz's names, mostly, although Chase did his name thrown into the mix occasionally, too. This wasn't too bad. Chase could handle talking to people and hopefully get them to root for him. Hopefully, he hadn't hurt his chances by running away. He wasn't exactly sure why he decided to bolt. It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision. Chase wished he had been braver. If it weren't for the cameras, he would have told anyone that he held his head high and strided to the stage in acceptance of his fate. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the whole thing had been recorded, that wouldn't be a believable story.

Finally, the group reached a large building with heavy, golden doors. The words "Tribute Remake Center" hangs above the door in lights flashing bright, neon colors. A smaller sign hung in the window read "Open for tours in the off season!" Chase wondered how much money Capitolites would pay to see where tributes spent their time being cleaned up being their untimely deaths. As soon as the group were safely inside, the ten-foot-tall doors swung shut behind them.

"Alright, this is where we part for now! You're in the hands of your prep teams and stylists. Trust me, they'll make you look fabulous!"

"Hopefully you're not dressed as trees," Adler muttered. "It's always trees."

"It really isn't at all creative," Justin added. "Sometimes they try to change things up, though. I was a lumberjack. My district partner was a tree."

"Well, it's better than being naked," Chase joked.

Liz give him a look, pursing her lips slightly in disapproval, but she didn't say anything. Justin, however, nodded. "Fortunately, District Seven doesn't often have to go through that."

"No matter what you're dressed as, the crowd will love you," said Sin encouragingly as he opened a door for them. "I like your stylists a lot. They're quite wonderful. Now, get going! Liz, you're prep room is to the left, Chase's to the right. We'll see you outside by the chariots."

Chase nodded, letting Liz pass through the door first. He wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about meeting his prep team and stylist as Sin seemed to be, but he supposed there were worse situations he could be forced into, the Games themselves being a perfect example. Chase couldn't really see anything on him that needed to be fixing. No, he didn't have luscious golden locks or brilliant bright eyes, with high cheekbones or dimples or toned muscles, but he definitely wasn't ugly. To him, his appearance was fine how it was. He somehow had managed to make Connor fall in love with him, after all, so that must have meant something. Being prepped for a parade should be relatively painless. He hoped.

 **Author's Note: Another chapter for you all. :) I hope you liked reading about these four. We're almost done meeting all the tributes, with four more to go. Three will be next chapter, and the fourth will come in the chapter after that. I hope that's okay. Originally, these train ride chapters were going to be six POVs long, but I decided that would be far too much.**

 **See you next time! :)**


	11. Chapter 9: The Tribute Parade

**Chapter 9: Tribute Parade**

 **Circe Banks, 37, District Eleven Female -** _ **CelticGames4**_

Circe wasn't used to being the center of attention, and frankly, having a group of strangers crowd around her fussing over her body made her extremely uncomfortable. She didn't voice her discomfort, however, for fear that the prep team may lash out at her if she did. As it was, they were being incredibly cruel to her.

"Ugh, why are these tributes always so skinny?" said one member of her prep team with dark green hair. "Even as adults!"

"I know," groaned a man with a hot pink afro, "and she looks so old! How old is she, again?"

"Thirty-seven," said the last prep team member, a woman with sky blue skin and pure white hair.

"She looks like she's older than sixty, with all those wrinkles. In fact, most sixty-year-olds have the sense to have cosmetic surgery on those at the first sign."

Circe frowned. It was as though she wasn't in the room. She couldn't believe even the most shallow of Capitolites could talk about a human being in such a way. She cried out as the male member of her prep team ripped a huge section of hair off her leg, and tears began to spring into her eyes.

"Look at that," sneered the woman with blue skin. "She can't even handle having her hair waxed."

The other woman rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'm going to leave you two doing that while I try to make this rat's nest of hair on the top of her head more presentable."

Circe shut her eyes, wishing she could block out the prep team's hateful comments. She wished her husband, Harvey, was here. Harvey was her best friend, her most trusted confidant, her protector. He would stand up for her, and wouldn't let these people say such hurtful things to her if he were here. Circe was far too soft-hearted to stand up for herself, which is why she would never make it out of the arena alive. Thinking of her husband, the tears began to flow more heavily.

Circe felt like she had done nothing but cry ever since being reaped. She missed Harvey. She missed their daughter, eleven-year-old Ciara, and their seven-year-old son, Tiernen. Circe couldn't believe she would never see her family again. Harvey had trying to comfort her, saying she still had a chance and shouldn't give up, but she knew better. She would never make it home.

Circe's escort, mentor, and district partner didn't help much, though they tried. The escort, Gloria Chase, was a kind woman who had full belief in both Circe and Victor, despite the fact that neither of them had much of a chance at all. She had sat with Circe as she cried, rubbing circles on her back like Circe's sister Damaris might have done when they were girls. The only living victor in District Eleven, Thorne Stanton, did his best to cheer her up, too, although he was clearly out of his element in mentoring two tributes who were older than him by nine years or more. He cracked jokes and chattered endlessly, but Circe couldn't help but feel more intimidated than comforted by him. Meanwhile, Victor sat awkwardly in the corner of the train, clearly unsure about how to help a sobbing woman. Circe supposed he felt as stunned as she did, as he had also broken down on stage.

Eventually, the prep team finished up with any work they found necessary to complete on Circe, then rushed off to summon the stylist. The man who came in was tall and lean. He had long, navy blue hair tied back in a ponytail and tiny triangular horns sprouting from the top of his head. Rectangular glasses balanced on his nose.

"My name is Claudius. I want you to know that I will not take nonsense, and that I want you out of here as soon as possible because your prep team already put you behind schedule." Circe nodded quickly. "Good. A quiet one. I hate the high spirited ones who refuse to cooperate. Here, put these on. I'll return in two minutes."

Claudius tossed her a pair of solid red tights and a long sleeved shirt and slipped out the door. Slightly stunned, Circe pulled on the tights, which felt loose around her hips as if they might slip off at any moment. Then, she slid the shirt over her head. Not long after she had finished, Claudius opened the door again. In his arms, he held a large red globe. The globe had four smaller holes where Circe's arms and legs clearly were supposed to go. An indent and a larger hole was centered at top for her head. Circe had a sinking feeling she knew what her costume was going to be.

"Step inside the globe," Claudius said. When Circe obeyed, he zipped up the back of the costume and handed her a strange hat. It was red on top and white on the bottom, getting wider near the hat's tip. The hat also had a plastic brown stem sprouting out from the top.

"Look in the mirror," Claudius said.

Circe did so, and found she looked as ridiculous as she feared. She was a red apple. The hat on her head looked somewhat like an apple core, and it had the appearance that someone had taken two bites out of the apple, one on either side of Circe's head. She sighed. It could be worse, she realized. She could have very little clothes on at all. Maybe she should be more thankful.

Circe didn't feel thankful. She felt like a piece of fruit.

"Now, follow me. Your mentor and district partner are waiting outside."

Circe nodded and followed the man out to the City Circle, where a line of chariots and horses were waiting. Victor had beaten her to their chariot, and was currently talking to Thorne. Like Circe, Victor was dressed as an apple, but his costume was light green rather than red. He waved to her as she approached, and she gave him a small smile back.

"So you're an apple too, huh?" Victor asked, pointing out the obvious.

Circe nodded. "It appears so."

"This outfit feels too awkward," said Victor. "It's too round."

"It could be worse. I was a piece of broccoli," said Thorne. "That costume was so top heavy. I almost toppled out of the chariot"

"Still, I wish I could have had the stylists from One or Two. They would know how to present me in the most positive light."

He had a point, Circe supposed, although citizens of District Eleven weren't known for being particularly attractive people, despite Victor seeming to disagree. Her prep team certainly saw them as unattractive, as they had just proven to her not thirty minutes before.

"We probably won't attract many sponsors in this outfit," Circe said, though she doubted she'd be able to gain many even if she were dressed like a queen.

"Oh, don't be so glum," said Gloria, who had just come up behind them. "Just smile and wave, and you'll be fine! They'll love you!"

Circe nodded, if only to satisfy the escort.

"Well, it's about that time," said Thorne. "Climb aboard the Sponsor Express."

"The what?" asked Victor.

"He means the chariot," said Gloria.

"Right. Why didn't you just say that?"

Victor climbed onto the chariot, and Circe followed. As she began to step on board, Victor suddenly took a step back. His costume bumped into Circe's and almost knocked her over. He only seemed to notice when Circe squeaked in surprise, gripping the hand rails of the chariot for support.

"What happened?"

"You bumped into me and I almost fell off," Circe said calmly, trying not to seem as though she was accusing her district partner.

"Oh. Sorry. I guess I forgot how much space this costume takes up."

"It's fine." There really wasn't much space to move around, and the width of their costumes caused Circe to feel squished between Victor and the side of the chariot.

"So now what?" asked Victor, glancing at the pair of horses attached to the chariot.

Before anyone had a chance to reply, the horses began to pull forward.

"Well…. Here we go."

* * *

 **Cornelius Marquis, Head Gamemaker, 28**

Cornelius sat on the edge of their seat in the VIP Gamemakers' box, waiting for the parade to start. Although their black glasses were already straight on their nose, the agender individual pressed a finger to the center of the frames, a nervous quirk of theirs. Down the line of chairs, their team of gamemakers chatted animatedly, and the excited roar of the citizens of the Capitol could be heard from even inside the boxed off seating. Cornelius hoped no one talked to them, or if they did, that they would keep conversation to a minimum. They wanted to focus on the tributes. Cornelius knew they could gain a lot of information simply from observing the tributes at every stage of the pre-games, and the more they knew about each tribute, the better they could shape the arena to please the Capitolite viewers.

Three seats down from Cornelius, the Head Mutt Designer Justinian Noble barked out a laugh, and Cornelius instinctively pivoted their head towards the sound. The thirty-one-year-old was dressed in a very professional manner. His naturally brown hair was slicked back, and his dark violet suit matched his eyes in color perfectly. Almost as if he sensed Cornelius's glance, he turned his head in their direction and offered them a charming smile. Cornelius was sure their heart skipped a beat as they nervously gave him a small smile back. They hoped they looked at least somewhat attractive, and not like the total dork they felt like and had been called dozens of times in their life. Worried they would do something foolish, Cornelius turned their attention back to the paved streets below, where they knew the tributes would soon parade by.

After a few minutes, the voices of Simone and Nero came over the speakers, signalling the beginning of the parade. Cornelius ignored the words of the Announcer and Master of Ceremonies. They wanted to form their own opinions.

As to be expected, the chariot of District One was the first to appear around the bend. As they often were, the pair were dressed like royalty. This year, the costumes seemed to be of an Egyptian variety. Young Ivory's pure white gown was sleeveless and flowed down to her ankles. The dress was tight fitting, and if Cornelius had a sexual attraction to women, they would have found the outfit pleasing to their eye. Jewels covered both Ivory's dress and stiletto heels, and she wore a headdress of peacock feathers. Although he was nearly forty, Valor's stylists chose to leave him shirtless. A tan piece of fabric covered his crotch and backside, and he too wore a headdress, though his was decorated with a golden snake rather than the feathers. The pair were popular with the crowd, with Ivory smiling and waving elegantly and Valor cheering along with the crowd as he waved a staff in the air.

District Two rolled by next, with its tributes looking as though they came straight from Ancient Rome. Justus was dressed in red and silver battle armor, while Arista wore a white dress of a goddess, complete with a red sash and an olive-leaf crown in her dark hair. Both held their heads high as they rolled down the street. Arista stared straight ahead, while Justus nodded and waved calmly at the crowd. Cornelius thought both districts looked particularly impressive, and knew the others had a lot to prove to live up to reach the bar set by the richest districts.

District Three, Cornelius's favorite district, appeared next. Their tributes were dressed simply, but Cornelius decided that was a good thing. Both tributes were dressed in gray. Volustre wore a light gray dress that fell to her knees, and Niels had a dark gray jumpsuit. Turning gears covered them both, and the number three flashed on their backs in different colors. Both tributes waved to the crowd, if a little awkwardly, and the cheers for them were noticeably less than those for the two districts that came before them.

After Three, Four passed by, and the cheers once again rose in volume. Cornelius had seen their costumes before, but they liked them, as did the crowd. Meridian was a siren, with her hair dyed a light blue, and a flowing dark blue skirt. On top, she had nothing on but a sea-shell bra. Pearls decorated her hair and neck. Marin's outfit was less impressive, as he was clearly meant to be the captain under her spell. Both tributes knew how to woo the crowd, and they handled the positive response well.

District Five followed behind. Varia and Seamon were dressed in identical outfits of black long sleeved shirts and sweatpants. Strings of tiny lights zig-zagged across their bodies, flashing quickly to give the appearance of lightning. The outfit was simple, yet the crowd loved it. Cornelius applauded along with them. Varia soaked up most of the attention as she smiled and waved with ease, while Seamon mostly looked straight ahead, forcing a tight smile onto his face.

Cornelius watched in interest as they realized District Six took a different approach this year. The tributes outfits wore simple, shiny black jackets and pants, but it was their chariot that seemed to be the most decorated. It was longer than the other chariots by at least four or five feet, and was painted red, black, white, and blue rather than the traditional silver or gold color. It took Cornelius a good thirty seconds of staring at the chariot before realizing that the stylists had attempted to transform the two-wheeled vehicle into a train. Cornelius buried their face in their hands, deciding that "attempted" was as far as the stylists had gotten before throwing their tributes on board the chariot. Calissa and Maddox tried to make the most of their situation, but it seemed as though the crowd was as confused about the chariot's design as Cornelius.

Cornelius groaned to themself when they saw the District Seven tribute's outfits. Once again, the pair were trees. Where were these stylists' originality? At least the costumes represented different species of trees. The triangular shape of Elizabeth's outfit indicated that she was meant to be a pine, while Chase clearly represented an oak. As was expected of a victor's mother, Elizabeth waved calmly to the crowd, though her smile was clearly forced. Chase comically waved both arms at once, which caused the audience to laugh. Despite their plain outfits, Chase and Elizabeth received a fair amount of applause.

When District Eight's chariot rounded the corner, Cornelius felt a small amount of relief. Only the heads and arms of Anita and Dresden could be seen, because the rest of their bodies were covered in a beautiful quilt of many different colors. However, the pair received little applause, as Anita had a firm expression on her face, and Dresden scowled, crossing his arms.

Unfortunately, once the District Nine chariot arrived, it was clear the parade was about to go downhill. Zane and Saffron were ugly, brown bundles of wheat. Loose strands of "wheat" blow in the wind as the horses trotted along. Despite his unfortunate costume, Zane seemed to be at a much better state than the one he was in at his reaping. He waved to the crowd, and actually seemed fairly confident in himself. Saffron was the more awkward of the two, not being able to bring herself to smile.

District Ten perhaps had the most adorable costumes of the night, as their tributes were dressed as cows. Cornelius thought the outfits would have been a better fit for twelve-year-olds, not adults in their twenties and thirties like Lil and Hector were. Hector looked none too pleased to be placed in a reddish-brown bull suit, but Lil accepted the costume in full stride. She smiled sweetly and waved to the crowd, ringing the metal bell around her neck as she did so. Her stylist had even attached a wagging tail to the black and white costume. Some members of the crowd vocalized how cute they found the costumes, which caused Hector's scowl to deepen.

District Eleven was dressed as apples, with Victor in green and Circe in red. The costumes weren't too bad, in Cornelius's opinion, if a little boring. Victor waved, knowing how to charm, while Circe did her best to hide behind him. Since she was dressed in a bright red orb, this was no easy task.

Finally, District Twelve brought up the rear. Cornelius was both disappointed and relieved to see the pair dressed as miners. On one hand, the miners covered in coal dust was an extremely overdone outfit, but on the other hand, Cornelius did not want to see them naked. Some may have called them prude, but Cornelius didn't care. Seeing naked bodies of tributes, whether they were teenagers or adults, was not a pleasant sight. The tributes didn't do much to boost the crowds impression of themselves. Luciel refused to acknowledge the crowd at all as she stared straight ahead. Joshua tried to look polite, but even his attempts seemed half-hearted.

Cornelius watched as the twelve pairs of horses trotted around the City Circle and came to a stop in front of the Presidential Mansion. They didn't know what these tributes would bring to the arena, but they did know that these Games were going to be intriguing. They would make sure of it.

* * *

 **Volustre Eckhart, District Three Female, 29 -** _ **deathlesssmile**_

If someone had asked Volustre eight years previous what she thought the future would have held, she wouldn't have been sure what she would have said. At the time, she was pregnant with her first, and what turned out to be only child, so she probably would have said she would eventually add one or two more children to her family. Jem, her husband, would be a wonderful father to their kids, and a better partner than Tre could ever ask for. He, Tre, and Tre's older sister Rhea would have taught the kids how to work iron at the blacksmith shop the family worked at. She would have said the family would be happy.

Tre never imagined that Jem would disappear even before their daughter was even born. Jem was a passionate man who rarely thought about consequences. He would have done anything to create a better world for his family, and Tre suspected his recklessness had gotten him into trouble with the Peacekeepers. Tre knew Jem would never willingly leave her and their unborn child. He loved her more than she ever thought anyone could love her, and loved their baby from the moment he found out they had conceived. Even though she had never seen a body, Tre knew Jem must have been dead, and knowing that nearly killed her. She had her baby to worry about though. Little Jennis was seven years old now and meant the world to her mother.

Tre also had imagined that she would be taken away from Jen. She played by the rules, working in the smithy and never doing anything remotely illegal. After what she thought was her last reaping as a teenage, she had celebrated with her sister Rhea. The sisters had been through a lot together, and life seemed to be finally looking up, at least until she lost Jem. After Jen was born though, her life had been fairly stable considering all she had lost. She had to be stable and hold herself together for Jen. When the Quell had been announced, Tre had become a little nervous for the upcoming reaping. What parent wouldn't have been? Yet, she still couldn't believe that it had been her that had been reaped.

Jen was old enough to know what being called at the reaping meant. She didn't know exactly what happened in the Games, but she knew they meant death, and that most tributes didn't make it home. Therefore, she had been beside herself at the reaping, fighting to break free of her aunt Rhea's strong grip. Inside the Justice Building, she had clung to Tre, not letting go until Rhea gently pried her free. Tre knew Rhea would take care of Jen, just as she had taken care of Tre as a child. However, that did little to console Tre on the fact that she was forced to leave Jen with the possibility of never returning to her. She was determined to fight. She couldn't leave Jen an orphan.

The District Three prep team and stylists weren't as bad as Tre had expected them to be. They worked very efficiently, and Tre and her district partner Niels were one of the first pairs outside. The stylist had put her in a light gray, knee-length dress with turning gears and tied back her long black hair. She had used concealer on her toasted light brown skin, covering most of the burns and scars stretching her arms. She definitely could have had worse luck.

"Hello, Volustre," Niels said, too cheery for his current situation. Niels was a friendly man, though he was old enough to be her father. At fifty-one, he would have been the same age when she had been born that she had been when she had Jen. Though he was a nice and clearly intelligent, Tre didn't think he'd last long in the Games. She felt horrible thinking so and would never say so aloud, however. Her heart ached for him, and for his children that would surely lose such a kind and loving father.

"Hello, Niels. We don't look too ridiculous at least."

Niels smiled. "No. It could be worse. I actually really like the flashing lights! The electricity they managed to incorporate into these outfits is quite impressive. In fact, they remind me of one of my current projects, on which -"

Tre nodded along, trying her best to pay attention to her talkative district partner. She must have heard of at least five or six of the man's inventions since they first boarded the train. While she was sure his inventions were fascinating and important to Niels, she really just wanted to stay focused on going home.

Her saving grace turned out to be Argon, one of the mentors for District Three. The other, Plato seemed totally interested in both her and Niels, and even came right out and said that they could only rely on Argon for help. Argon, on the other hand, had promised that he would do his best to ensure one of them made it out. Tre felt she had a good ally outside the arena in her mentor. Argon was still quite popular in the Capitol even at age thirty-six, and he was known to be very convincing around sponsors.

"Are you ready, you two?"

"Oh, I think so," said Niels. "I've never been around horses before. Is there anything I need to be aware of when riding the chariot?"

Argon shrugged. "Not really. Just stand there. Oh, and smile charmingly and wave of course. Capitolites like smiles, not scowls."

"Well, who wouldn't?" asked Niels.

"Plato." Argon said seriously, his face expressionless. Niels, however, laughed.

"Good point."

Their escort, Candy, hustled over. "Time to start! Up onto the chariot!"

Niels let Tre on first before carefully stepping up and taking his place beside her. Tre watched as the District One chariot began to move. Then District Two's rolled forward. Tre didn't have time to wonder how the horses knew when to move before the chariot started forward with a jolt.

"Here we go," Niels whispered to her. He put on a smile and began to wave to the crowd, and Tre followed his lead.

Finally, each chariot came to a stop one by one in front of the balcony of the Presidential Mansion. Tre looked up to see Celestina Snow step out onto the balcony, her heels tapping against the marble. Her chestnut brown hair was tied up on top of her head, and mascara lined her bright blue eyes like wings. The crowd of Capitolites cheered excitedly for their president, and she waved like a princess in response. Many in the Capitol and the richer career districts admired the president for her natural beauty, and Tre could understand why. She could also see how rumors of Argon being involved with the woman outside the typical relationship between a president and a victor could start.

"Welcome, citizens of the Capitol, and of course our victors and this year's tributes." The crowd began to quiet as President Snow began her speech. "Over one hundred years ago, the land known as North America was destroyed by floods, fires, and earthquakes. Millions of people were lost. Yet, a nation rose from the ashes. This nation, split into thirteen districts, became known as Panem. For years, Panem knew nothing but peace under the care of the Capitol. However, the peace was shattered when the districts decided to rebel. The Capitol regained control, but a price had to be paid. This price is the annual Hunger Games.

"Now, we have reached the one-hundredth anniversary of our Games. This year, we are switching up the rules and giving parents the opportunity to participate. However, the same rules apply as another year. Tributes, people you are sent into the arena, I would like to welcome you to our glorious Capitol. We are very pleased to have you here, and we have the utmost respect for your bravery. I advise you to use your time here wisely. Sometimes, a simple mistake can make the difference between life and death."

President Snow paused for a minute. The crowd remained silent, waiting for her next words.

"With that in mind, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

 **Varia Staves, District Five Female, 49 -** _ **RedRoses1000**_

" _With that in mind, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

The irony in that quote, Varia realized, was that for most of the tributes that stood where she currently did, the odds already weren't in their favor. Of course, Varia hadn't been having much good luck. She and her husband, Nale had experienced a lot of stress in the past nine months or so, and needless to say, being reaped into the Games made Varia feel as though a seventy-pound sack of bricks had been attached to her back, adding to the weight she already carried.

Thankfully, the family was financially stable, as Varia held a job as an accountant, and Nale worked as a school teacher. Therefore, Varia's biggest stressor was not money, but not having enough hours in the day. Besides her job, which had become more and more demanding, Varia had two daughters to raise. The oldest, seventeen-year-old Valerie, was the easy one. She was helpful, smart, and caring and aspired to follow in her father's footsteps and become a teacher. Thirteen-year-old Emilia was different. Emilia struggled in school, and Varia had been called in to her school multiple times just in the past months because her youngest daughter had been causing trouble. On top of it all, Varia's mother, Wisteria, suffered a stroke about six months prior to the reaping, and Varia was forced to juggle work and raising her daughters with caring for her mother. As was to be expected, she had begun to feel worn down. Still, Varia did her best to keep her head up. Despite how stressed she was, she felt so fortunate that she had a job and a family to keep her busy. Too few people in the districts could say the same.

As much as Varia would rather be in District Five with her family, she was forced to be in the Capitol. She would have to fight to see her family again, a task that seemed so daunting. As President Snow finished her speech, she dismissed the tributes, and Varia gingerly took a step down from the chariot. She saw District Five's escort, Belphoebe, standing a few dozen feet away, waving enthusiastically at her and Seamon. The escort had told them she would bring them to their suite in the Tribute Center whenever they were ready, but Varia wanted to follow her mentor's advice and get to know some of her fellow tributes before training. As it was, some districts, such as the tributes from Eight and Nine, were already disappear into the crowd. Districts One and Two had already formed a clump off to the side, where the man from Two had risen his voice to be louder than all the rest, although the man from One seemed determined to close the gap.

"I'm going to talk to some of the others," Varia said to Seamon. "You're free to come with me if you'd like."

Seamon shook his head. "Uh, no. Thank you. I'll just stay here."

Varia wasn't surprised. Her district partner had barely spoken to her since they boarded the train, and seemed to prefer to stick to himself. She wouldn't be surprised if he ended up braving the arena himself.

"Suit yourself," said Varia, turning towards the district Six chariot. The man had already gone off to speak with other tributes, but the young woman still stood near the chariot, setting her shoulder-length light brown hair free from the bun her stylist had put her in. She smiled as Varia approached.

"Hello. District Five, yes?"

Varia nodded. "I'm Varia Staves."

The woman shook her hand. "Calissa Peer. I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but seeing the circumstances…"

"It's alright. I understand. In fact, it's actually terrible to meet you. If I was still in District Five, we would have never met." Varia tried her best to crack a joke and ease some of the gloom that hovered in the air. Fortunately, Calissa cracked a smile.

"That's very true. Are you looking for allies?"

"I'm hoping so," said Varia. "Preferably a younger mother."

Calissa nodded. "Me too, actually, if possible. I'm looking for someone trustworthy."

"That seems like a good strategy," Varia said. At forty-nine, she didn't think she counted as a younger mother, but she hoped she could still consider Calissa for a choice in ally. After a few more minutes of small talk, both women moved on to talk to other tributes. Seeing the pairs from Seven and Eleven already engaged in conversation, Varia continued to District Ten's chariot. The woman, dressed as a black and white cow, was the first to see her, and offered her a welcoming smile.

"Hi. I'm Lil Carey. My district partner is Hector here." Hector raised his hand in greeting.

"I'm Varia Staves. District Five."

"Power District, huh?"

"That's right. Although, your costumes aren't helping me at all to guess where you're from," Varia teased.

Hector chuckled. "I'll give you a hint. Moo." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, can they dress us in anything more childish."

Lil shrugged. "I think they're kind of cute. My girls would love it." The young woman's smile faded as she mentioned her daughters.

"Right, and they are how old, did you say?"

"Four and one."

"There you go," Hector said, though he was smiling good-naturedly.

"I guess you have a point," Lil said. "It could be so much worse."

"Touche," said Hector. "So, Varia's where is your district partner?"

"I don't think he's very interested in talking to other tributes."

He nodded. "Understandable."

"That's fine" Lil added. "They'll be plenty of opportunities to talk in training if he wants to."

The conversation continued on in the same way, until Hector decided to move on. "It was nice talking to you, Varia, but I'm going to introduce myself to some of the others."

"That's fine. It was good to talk with you, too."

"See you at training," Lil said, giving a wave.

Next, Varia approached the District Twelve tributes, Joshua and Lucy. At age eighteen, Lucy was the youngest of the tributes. In a normal year, she would have been one of the oldest. It was odd to go into the arena with a girl about her daughter's age, a thought Varia did not like to have in her mind. While watching the recaps, Varia had considered Lucy to be a potential ally, perhaps because she was so close in age to Valerie.

The conversation flowed smoothly, until Varia clearly said the wrong thing. "It's not right to send someone as young as you into the arena against so many older adults."

Immediately, Lucy scowled and narrowed her eyes, and Varia quickly realized she had made a mistake with her words. "Right. Like sending eighteen-year-olds into the arena is acceptable any other year. I shouldn't even be here. I'm not a fucking parent like the rest of you. It's called giving the bastard kid up."

Varia opened her mouth to protest, but Lucy interrupted. "No. Don't even start giving me pity. Not for that, or _anything_ else." She shot Varia a glare and retreated to her chariot.

Perhaps an alliance between herself and Lucy wouldn't work out after all.

Lucy's district partner looked awkward. "Sorry. I uh, hope you have a good night."

Varia gave a small nod. "Thanks. You too."

Joshua followed his district partner, and Varia turned around to face the other chariots. At this point, most of the other districts had gone up to the Tribute Center. The only districts who still hovered around were herself and Seamon, and Districts Seven, Ten and Twelve. Varia returned to Seamon, assuming he was probably ready to head to their suite. By the time she reached the chariot, both mentors, Silex and Akila, were waiting for her as well.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting."

"It's fine," said Seamon.

"You just did what I told you to do. We can discuss it further after dinner."

Varia nodded, and followed as Belphoebe lead the group to the Tribute Center. Already the day had felt so long. Yet, Varia knew that there were many days just like this to come. She just wasn't sure if she was ready for them.

 **Author's note: Hi all! Couple of things I'd like to say. Firstly, I'm back at college now, but I'm going to try to keep updates as regular as possible, hopefully spanning between every other week and once a month. We're just getting into the good stuff now, so that's exciting!**

 **Secondly, only one more tribute to introduce! I'm sorry that Saffron will be the last character to be introduced with a POV, but I promise the POVs for the pre-games chapters are mostly random. There is no reason she is the last POV other than there hasn't been room for that twenty-fouth POV so far.**

 **Also, I hope I did a fine job with the chariot outfits. Since only a few of you gave me ideas, I had to make most of them up myself, which was fine. :)**

 **Finally, I have a question for all of you: as we come into training, who would you like to see interact? Who do you want your tribute to talk to? Let me know. :)**

Hope you enjoyed this update, and see you soon!


	12. Chapter 10: Training Day 1

**Chapter 10: Training, Day 1**

 **Saffron Jameson, District Nine Female, 45 -** _jds2416_

When Saffron woke up, her first instinct was to cook breakfast before waking up her three children. With a pang of sorrow, she remembered she was currently hundreds of miles away from home. She hadn't been able to read seven-year-old Zea a bedtime story last night. She hadn't been able to remind twelve-year-old Cameron to wear his helmet when he rode his bike after dinner. Saffron would have even chosen to have an argument with her oldest daughter, Farra, because the sixteen-year-old had stayed out too late rather than be here in the Capitol, away from her family. She wanted to be with her children so badly, the young people who needed their mother in their lives. Saffron's husband, Milo cared deeply for their family, but he worked several jobs just to provide for them, and didn't have much time to spend with the children. Even though Milo's hard work was vital to the family, Saffron knew he would feel guilty for leaving their children alone for so long if Saffron didn't make it home. Her family needed her, and Saffron hated to be apart from them.

Saffron inhaled sharply as a loud banging on her door broke through her thoughts. The unpleasant voice of her escort, Essylt, followed. "Saffron! Hurry up and get out here! Do you want to miss breakfast and have nothing?"

"Give me just a minute, please."

Essylt gave an irritated "hmph " before heading to Zane's room to wake him. Saffron slid out of bed and put on the training attire that had been laid out for her the night before by an Avox. Then, she went out to the dining room for breakfast. Other than the stylists, Saffron was the first person at the table. Nearly ten minutes passed before Essylt and Zane entered the kitchen, both of whom looked very grumpy.

"Honesty! If I were in a career district, I'd have tributes who were eager to start the day. Even the tributes from Five or Seven would be quicker than you two." Essylt gestured to one of the two empty chairs at the table and sat down in the other. "Have a seat, _Darling_."

Zane scowled slightly at the nickname, but didn't reply. Instead, he scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate and began to silently push them around with his fork.

"How would you suggest we approach training today?" Saffron asked Essylt.

"Darling, I am not your babysitter," Essylt snapped. "Figure it out yourself."

Saffron narrowed her eyes. "Of course you are not our babysitter, because we are not children. However, since we don't have a mentor, we rely solely on you to help us."

"Why bother? You don't stand a chance. None of Nine's tributes ever do."

"Then why are you here?" Saffron muttered. Normally, Saffron wasn't so bitter. She preferred to be more outgoing and humorous, but stress had always put her in a sour mood. Being reaped was one of the most stressful situations Saffron could be in, so naturally, she was not in the mood to deal with the escort's rudeness.

"I don't want to be, but I'm afraid I'm stuck here until I receive a promotion."

Saffron decided not to continue the argument. It really wasn't worth it. After breakfast, Essylt rushed Saffron and Zane into the elevator. The District Eleven tributes were already in the elevator when it arrived, and it made stops on Six and Five before arriving on the ground floor. By the time the elevator reached it's destination, the interior was packed to the point of awkwardness. Saffron was overcome with relief when the elevator doors finally slid open.

The training room was open and spacious. It seemed to be divided by subject, with weapons on one side of the room, and survival stations on the other. The far right wall was a rock wall for climbing, and in the far left corner, a small pool had been built into the ground. A Capitolite instructor explained rules and procedures of training, and the tributes were allowed to disperse.

Feeling overwhelmed, Saffron gazed at all the different choices for weaponry she had before her. There were close range weapons such as swords, daggers, and scythes. There were also distance weapons, such as bows, spears, and throwing knives. In addition, Saffron saw weapons she didn't even know the name of. She wanted to try to learn to use one of the weapons, since she couldn't rely on her physical strength, being forty-five, skinny, and malnourished. Her biggest challenge was that she had no idea how to begin.

"Having trouble deciding where to go?"

Saffron turned around to see a wiry man with brown skin, yellow eyes, and long black hair smiling at her. If she remembered correctly, he was from Eleven. She smiled back at him and nodded. "Yes, I am, actually. I'm hoping to learn to use a weapon so I can defend myself, but I don't know anything about any of them."

"Well, I guess we're in the same boat," said the Eleven man. "I know nothing about weapons either. I want to stop at every station eventually, so mind if I tag along?"

Saffron didn't mention that he likely wouldn't have time to go to every station in just three days. She simply shook her head. "I don't mind. Maybe we should try the spears first, since they're right here."

"Sounds like a plan. I'm Victor, by the way."

"Saffron."

As the approached, the trainer at the spears station gave them a polite smile and nod. "Welcome to training. Would you like to learn how to throw a spear this morning?"

"Of course," said Victor. "That's why we're here."

"Alright, who wants to go first?"

"I will," said Victor before Saffron could even open her mouth.

The trainer grabbed a spear from the rack and handed it to Victor. "The first thing you want to do is find the balancing point of the spear on your palm and curl your fingers around it…. That's right, there you go. Close your fingers all the way around that spear, now. Very good. Hold the spear a little more straight so it's parallel to the ground. Now, use your wrist as a pivot. When you are about to release, you want to be holding the spear with only your thumb and index finger."

"Won't it fall, though?" Victor asked.

"No, it's not that heavy. That is why you want it to be balanced. Now, go ahead and throw whenever you are ready."

Victor threw the spear, blushing slightly when it sailed over the target and clattered against the wall.

"Not bad for the first time," said the trainer. "Would you like a turn next, M'am?"

Saffron nodded. Victor took a step back and let Saffron take his place. The red-haired woman listened closely as he repeated the instructions to her. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be able to pick up the skill as well as Victor had. "Move the spear a little forward. And uh, flip your hand around, your thumb should be facing the other direction. See how that feels more natural?"

Finally, Saffron threw the spear. To her disappoint, it landed a few yards from the target with a clang as it hit the floor. With several more attempts, Victor continued to come closer to hitting his mark, even brushing the target once. As for Saffron, she didn't improve in the least.

"I'm going over there next," Victor said, pointing to a table full of clubs and other usual weapons.

"Alright," said Saffron. "I think I'm going to stick to weapons I've seen before."

Victor shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you at lunch, perhaps?"

She nodded. "Good luck, Victor."

"Yes, you too."

Saffron turned away from him and found herself wandering towards the knives station. Perhaps she have better luck with a weapon that was smaller. The woman from District Six was already there, but Saffron didn't mind. The more tributes she met, the better chance she had at making peace with some, and therefore, her chances of surviving the arena would be improved. Calissa was young, possibly young enough to be Saffron's daughter if she had chosen to have children about ten years or so earlier than she had. As Saffron approached, Calissa turned to look at her and smiled.

"Hello. You're from District Nine?"

"Yes. I'm Saffron. And yourself?"

"Calissa. Nice to meet you." She shook Saffron's hand s if they were in a business meeting rather than a fight to the death.

"Hey, Nine," said the knives trainer gruffly. "Are you here to train with knives or just chit-chat."

"Well, I intended to learn how to throw knives."

"Come here then." At a rushed pace, the trainer tried to demonstrate how to properly throw a knife. Saffron came closer than she had with the spears, but her skills still weren't up to par with the trainer's expectations. After the third or fourth attempt, the trainer threw up his hands in frustration and backed away to let the women fend for themselves.

"How many children do you have?" Calissa asked.

"Three. Farra is sixteen, Cameron is twelve, and Zea is nine." Saffron sighed. "I hope I can make it home to them. My husband works so hard for them. He doesn't have the time to do my job as a stay-at-home parent as well as his own. How about you?"

Calissa threw another knife. "Just one," she said softly, her voice was hesitant, as if she had to force out words. "Damien. He's five. I… I used to have two boys, before Damien's twin died of the disease he is suffering from now."

Saffron frowns. "I'm so sorry."

"I just have to get back to him. I know all these parents here are probably going to say that, but my son truly needs me. He's dying. He's with his father now, but Damien's illness has been so hard on him. His father's name is Cameron actually." Calissa smiled slightly at the connection.

"Huh. I guess we have something in common," Saffron said. A lump formed in her throat. How could she ever make it out of the arena when this mother had a dying son to go home to?

"I'm going to try something else," Calissa said. "I need to learn how to use this close range."

From the tone, Saffron could tell Calissa didn't really want to learn how to use a weapon to kill another person. Neither did she. Of course, neither of them had a choice if they wanted to go home.

Saffron watched as the trainer showed Calissa where to stab the dummy in order to best injure a person or kill them in the most efficient, painless way. Deciding knives wasn't quite her forte, Saffron moved on to the archery station. By the time the bell for lunch rang, Saffron had tried several weapons, but none had been the right fit for her. She sighed. She had hoped by the end of the day, she would be able to pick up a weapon. However, it was beginning to look as though that wasn't going to happen. This afternoon, she would start to focus on survival stations. If she had time, she'd try to learn a small weapon to use in self-defense. Hopefully, her new plan would be her best shot at survival.

* * *

 **Valor Acosta, 39, District One Male**

Nineteen-year-old Victor Midas Karlen had been quiet all morning, a fact Valor couldn't help but feel responsible for and take some pride in. He had made the young Victor quite nervous on the train during their discussion about his daughter, Flair. Valor had known Flair was close with Midas, but he didn't realize just how close that relationship was until he had saw the pair sharing a kiss before the Reaping. Valor admitted that there were worse boys Flair could have chosen to date. Midas was a hard-working, dedicated young man, which lead to his success in the Games. Unlike some Career Victors, Midas was not arrogant and boastful. Instead, he was quite the opposite, modest and respectful with everyone he came into contact with. Still, Valor cared about his daughters, and along with wanting to have a bit of fun and scare the shit out of Midas, he wanted to be sure neither of his girls were ever hurt. Although Valor was fairly sure Midas's intentions were sincere, he still made the fact known that if the young man ever hurt Flair in any way, there would be a price to pay.

Valor never thought that one of his trainees would one day be his mentor, yet here he was. He could tell the boy was nervous, and reasonably so. Midas had only won a year previous, and therefore was mentoring for the first time. Both he and Valor were used to Midas being the student and Valor the teacher. Not much had changed, really, when Valor thought about it. Being twenty years older, Valor was naturally wiser than his former trainee, having been through more life experiences. Therefore, Valor viewed Midas's job as mentor as being different this year than in an ordinary year. Midas's responsibilities would be to help Valor gain sponsors while he was in the arena. He had already informed Midas that he was asthmatic, and Midas had promised to get him an inhaler. The medication wasn't the difference between life and death on its own, but Valor didn't want to be caught in an asthma attack in the middle of a fight or while chasing after another tribute. Valor didn't like to admit his weaknesses, but unfortunately, asthma was one of them, a weakness that he felt Midas should be aware of.

As they walked down a floor to the training facilities, Valor, Ivory, the mentors, and the escort, Dizzy, remained silent. It was only when they reached the floor that Dizzy spoke. "Make District One proud, Valor."

Even though Ivory stood five feet away from him, Dizzy spoke only to Valor. She had acted coldly towards Ivory, probably because the young woman had been reaped rather than a volunteer. Ivory's insistence that she had trained didn't seem to matter to the haughty escort. As for Valor, he was curious to see what skills she possessed, and would wait until she demonstrated them being passing judgement.

After a few minutes, Valor and Ivory were joined by the tributes from District Two, Justus and Arista. "Good morning," Justus greeted, his voice booming around the room.

"Morning," Valor replied.

"To bad we can't just jump right into training, huh? Instead we have to wait for directions like children. We know the rules." Justus rolled his eyes.

"We do," said Valor, "but the rats from the outer district might need a little guidance."

Justus chuckled. "Good point."

The women, Valor noticed, stayed silent, which was fine by him. As long as they were assets to the Career alliance, Ivory and Arista could say as little or as much as they wanted. Finally, after a set of brief instructions, the Head Trainer gave word that they could begin.

"By the way," Justus said, his voice casual, but also firm, "I'm the head of this alliance. Anyone dissatisfied with that fact can leave."

Ivory and Arista looked at each other for a moment, before Ivory shrugged. "Fine. I don't want to lead anyway."

Arista nodded in agreement.

"Fine," said Valor. "Just know I still get a say. I'm not going to blindly follow you and let you make a stupid decision that will get us all killed."

Justus scowled. "I do not make stupid decisions, so you don't have to worry. _You_ should just know that you can say all you like, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I get the final say."

"Hmph," grunted Valor. "If that's what you want."

"Of course it is."

Valor decided to let the discussion slide. He had to choose his battles, and this was one he did not want to waste time fighting. The alliance would function better if they cooperated, rather than if they struggled with each other for power. Besides, Valor could always eliminate Justus if the situation got out of hand. He didn't think the other members of their alliance would mind. Let Justus think he had control; Valor knew who would really reign victorious.

"Alright, Justus, what's the plan?" asked Arista.

"First, we find up what's up with the tributes from Four and see why they haven't made contact with us. Then we'll see if you and Ivory are fit to be a part of this alliance."

"Wait a minute," said Arista. "Why do Ivory and I have to prove anything to you while you and Valor are automatically members of the pack?"

Justus stared at her for a moment. "You were reaped. Do you really want to argue about this?"

Arista hesitated, as if she were debating on how to answer him. "Fine. Should we split up then? Marin and Meridian have gone to separate stations."

Justus nodded. "Valor and I will take the kid. You and Ivory will talk to Meridian."

The women departed towards Meridian, while Justus spied Marin and began to stride towards him. Valor followed quickly behind. The young man was currently bent over a small pile of wood, trying to start a fire with flint. Valor thought the station was an odd choice for a volunteer from District Four, and his hopes about Marin began to plummet.

Justus cleared his throat loudly, and Marin looked up. "District Four?"

"Yes. May I help you?"

Justus stuck out his hand. "Justus Fiore. District Two. I'm the leader of the Career alliance."

"Marin Zale," the younger man said, shaking his hand.

Valor also took the opportunity to introduce himself and shake hands with Marin.

"So, what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Marin.

"You are a volunteer from a Career district, which usually means you would be a member of the Career pack. Yet, you haven't made contact with us. So think of us as just checking in and asking why you haven't done so."

"I'm sorry. I thought I'd made it clear when I didn't speak with you at the tribute parade that I have no interest in joining your alliance. Thank you for the offer."

Justus narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I don't want to be a part of the Career pack," Marin stated calmly. "Yes, I'm a volunteer from a Career district, but that's not the path I want to take. Neither does my district partner."

"You are a fucking idiot," Justus snarled. "Do you want a death sentence?"

Valor rolled his eyes. He had heard enough enough of this foolish kid from District Four. If Marin didn't want to be part of the most dominant alliance in the Games, then it was his loss, not the pack's. He was probably weak, something the pack didn't need to deal with in the long run.

"Let's not waste our time, Justus," Valor said. "We have better things to do today than argue with this guy."

Justus looked like he wanted to protest, but instead said, "whatever. I hope you realize, Four, that you have just placed a target on your own back." He then turned on his heels and marched away.

"Suit yourself," Valor said to Marin, before following his ally. Ivory and Arista were already waiting for them.

"I take it your talk with Marin didn't go well either?" Ivory asked.

"The moron refused," Justus grumbled. "Where's Meridian?"

"Also a no," said Arista.

"She flicked us off and said that she'd go it alone before joining forces with 'a bunch of killers' as she put it," Ivory clarified.

Justus groaned. "You have got to be kidding me. Now we're down to four, and two of those four tributes were _reaped_."

"We both still trained," Arista reminded him.

Valor nodded. At least the alliance had that going for them. "Maybe we'll manage to find a suitable replacement in a decent outer district tribute, if there is one worthy enough."

Justus grunted. "We'll see. First, let's see if the members we have now are competent enough for this alliance."

At Justus's words, Ivory began to stride in determination towards the whip station.

"Where are you going?" Justus snapped.

Ivory paused and turned to face him. "Doing what you said and proving my worth. Are you coming?"

Without another word, Justus started after the young woman. Valor and Arista took up the rear. Despite the bumps in the road, Valor's confidence remained high. No matter what the numbers or strength of his alliance were, only he would win the crown in the end.

* * *

 **Lil Carey, District Ten Female, 26**

By the time the bell rang and the head trainer announced lunch, Lil was ready for a break. The morning had been busy, with Lil visiting mostly survival stations. First, she had learned how to make a shelter using both man-made supplies such as tents and tarps and natural items like branches. Afterward, she followed the moves of a trainer who instructed her on how to tie a series of knots. She had just spent the past hour working with spears. Her plan was to spend a little time each day with the weapon, learning how to use it well enough to the point where she could at least defend herself decently.

After Lil had her bowl filled to the brim with a savory smelling soup, she looked around at the cluster of tables for a place to sit. The tributes from One and Two had taken the one the farthest to the left, and at another sat Zane, the man from Nine. Lil had tried talking to him at the shelter station, but he had shown little interest and talking, even shying away from her. Lil didn't think he'd appreciate her company now, either. At a third table, Lil saw the woman from Eleven. Circe was stirring at her soup hesitantly, her eyes slightly rimmed with red from lack of sleep the previous night. Carrying her tray carefully, Lil made her way over to the table.

"Hi there." Lil said, giving Circe a kind smile.

The other woman's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Oh… Hello." Circe's soft voice trembled as she spoke. Lil really just wanted to cheer her up.

"I'm Lil. I'm from Ten," she said, sitting down.

"Circe. From Eleven. It's… nice to meet you."

"You too! This is quite the fancy meal we have here, isn't?" Lil gestured to the soup and the small loaf of bread that had been seasoned and drizzled in oil. "Have you ever eaten anything like it?"

Circe shook her head. Of course she hadn't. Lil knew that the people of District Eleven had even poorer nutrition than those in Ten, despite living in the District that provided the nation's produce. After blowing off the soup gently, Lil took her first spoonful.

"Mm. I think I could eat about ten more of these bowls. Of course, then I would be too full to move, and I don't think my escort, Lysbeth, would appreciate having to drag me back to the elevator."

Making people smile when they were days away from a fight to the death was no small task, but Lil felt the need to try. She enjoyed making people smile. Happiness, after all was infectious. In fact, just seeing the tiny smile that appeared on Circe's face was enough to make Lil grin back.

"It is pretty good," Circe said, after taking a bite herself.

Lil nodded. "So Eleven, huh? What's that like?"

Circe hesitated. "Well, it's hot this time of year," she said finally.

"Yeah, so is Ten. It's not a bad place, though. My wife Ling and I run this little farm, and it's the perfect place for our girls, Jing and Jenna, to grow up. I don't even mind smelling like horse poop most of the time!"

Another smile. That was good.

"How old are your girls?" Circe asked timidly.

"Jing is four and Jenna is one. What about your children?"

"I have two, a boy and a girl. Ciara is eleven, and Tiernan is seven." Tears welled up in Circe's eyes as she spoke.

"Well, they're lucky to have a mother like you."

Circe gave a small nod. "Thank you. Yours are lucky, too."

"Hey, listen," said Lil. "I think I'm going to try some more survival stations after lunch, if you care to join me."

Circe looked surprised. "Really?"

"Sure, if you want to."

"Thank you. That would be nice."

The women finished their lunch and handed their trays over to an avox who waited to collect them. When they were finished, Lil turned to Circe.

"Where to?"

"It doesn't matter," said Circe. "Up to you."

Lil glanced around the room, considering their options. She thought their best bet would be survival skills, as Circe didn't seem to have the physical strength required to use most weapons effectively.

"What about traps?" Lil suggested.

Circe's eyes widened. "Traps? But wouldn't that mean we'd have to…"

"Not for humans," Lil clarified quickly. "I meant for animals. Maybe the arena will have some type of animal we can hunt and use for food. The only meat we have back home is domesticated and doesn't need to be hunted, so I have no idea how to do it."

Circe gave a small nod. "Oh. Alright."

The two women approached the traps station, and found that it currently had only one occupant. Seamon, the man from Five, was hard at work, copying the movements of the trainer. Lil greeted the trainer before turning to Seamon.

"Hi, I'm Lil, and this is Circe. Mind if we join you?"

Seamon didn't look up. The only indication that he had heard her was a shrug of his shoulder.

"You're from Five, right?" Lil asked.

Once again, Seamon gave no response, not even a shrug or a grunt. Lil and Circe looked at each other, and Lil gave a little shrug. Maybe Seamon was mute, or even just shy. Either way, she wasn't going to force someone to communicate with her when they clearly had no deserve to do so. Instead, Lil turned her attention to the trainer.

"We're interested in animal traps. Will you show us how to make them?"

"Well, this trap I'm working on now can be used for humans or animals. I've just started, so you can try to catch up if you like," said the trainer.

Working together, Lil and Circe eventually finished making a trap to the trainer's satisfaction. "Do you want to try the edible plants test now?" Circe suggested as they left the station.

Lil smiled, happy the other woman still wanted to stick with her for a least a while longer. She was finding Circe to be nice company. "Sure."

The berries station had no trainer, but rather a large screen that could be operated solely on touch. Lil and Circe watched a brief introduction video before the screen prompted them to begin the test. According to the instructions, they would be graded on both speed and accuracy. The test would be on edible versus edible plants, with the edible plants having been lit up in red and the inedible plants lighting up in yellow during the video.

"Do you want to go first, or should I?" Lil asked.

"I can," Circe replied, stepping up to the screen. Lil was surprised at how quickly Circe's fingers flew across the screen, and she was even more impressed when the screen revealed her score of ninety-four percent accuracy.

"Wow! Awesome job!"

Circe smiled shyly. "Thank you."

When Lil gave the test a try, she found herself having a bit more difficulty than her companion. She hesitated at times, and often found herself torn between two options. In the end, she scored eighty-one percent, and her time was around 45 seconds slower than Circe's.

"That's fine," Circe said encouragingly. "That's not a bad score either."

"Except for the fact that she'd have a 19 percent chance of dying if she ate the wrong berry," said a voice behind them.

Circe gasped and jumped, her eyes widening slightly, while Lil turned to face the speaker. He was a man with messy, dark hair, and sunken blue eyes. If Lil remembered correctly, he was from District Eight and named Dresden.

"Well, if you want to look at the pessimistic side of it, yes, I guess that's true," Lil said, 'but the chances that I'd be safe are much higher. I bet I could improve with practice, too."

Dresden snorted. "Maybe. Not that it's going to matter in the end. I bet the pair of you are going to end up on the pointy end of the sword or a spear by the end of day too." Circe let out a small whimper and stepped behind Lil, causing Dresden to smirk at her. "Scratch that. I bet _you_ won't last past the bloodbath, Eleven."

Lil crossed her arms. "Are you here for a reason besides to be mean, Cornnugget?"

Dresden blinked at her, and even Circe looked puzzled. "Cornnugget? What, are you four years old and that's the best insult you can come up with?"

Lil narrowed her eyes. "No, but I have a four-year-old daughter, and you can bet I make sure she never hears anything worse than that."

Lil wondered if she was really talking to an adult here. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought she was surrounded by the normal collection of teenagers rather than the adults that had been reaped instead. To think that this man was someone's father.

Dresden grunted. "Isn't that adorable?"

"You know, Circe and I were just leaving. Enjoy the berry test."

Lil took Circe's arm and gently pulled her away. A minute or two passed before Lil noticed the tears that were pooled in her companion's eyes.

"Hey, it's alright," Lil said in the tone she used when consoling her daughters when they were scared or hurt. "Don't let his words get to you."

"It's not that," Circe said, her voice quivering. "It's just… I don't want to die, Lil. I really don't, but I know I will. It doesn't matter if it's during the bloodbath or on Day Five, either way I'm going to die. I'll never see my family again…"

Tears flowed more heavily now, and Lil felt helpless on what to do. Then, an idea came to the forefront of her mind, one that she had been considering since she first began talking to Circe.

"Circe, I can't promise that isn't true, but maybe I can help."

"How?"

"Would you be my ally? We might want to find one or two more, but I think we'd make a good team."

Circe's eyes widen. "Really? You really want someone like me as your ally?"

Lil smiled. "Of course. Why not? We get along well, and you did an awesome job on that berries test. You can help me in the off nineteen percent chance I'm about to poison myself."

The other woman laughed. "Well, if you're sure you want me… then I'm in."

* * *

 **Lucy Furorum, 18, District Twelve Female**

Lucy felt she had spent enough time with fire for the day. She had spent much of the morning building a fire higher and higher. Many tributes had come and gone that morning, but Lucy had been the only one to stay. Some, like Anita from Eight, had watched her warily. Others, like Victor from Eleven, tried to make conversation. Lucy had obliged, since she was trying to find an ally that would work for her. She knew within the first few minutes of talking to Victor that he was not the right fit, however. The man was too self-absorbed. He was too busy talking about himself to question Lucy, which she admittedly appreciated. However, he also seemed to be unfocused and without a plan, as he had been rushing through stations all morning. He claimed he wanted to visit every last station, and Lucy decided couldn't possibly have learned any skill enough to be useful in such a short amount of time. No, Victor definitely would not be a good choice in ally, at least not for her.

Eventually, the flames at Lucy's firepit grew so large, the trainer kicked her out. Although Lucy could stay at the fire building station all day and not get bored, she knew it was for the best. She already knew how to make fires, of course, and mostly wanted to release some negative emotions. She had to start learning more skills and scouting for an ally. It was almost time for lunch anyway.

Lucy ate quickly and used the rest of the lunch break to wander from table to table to speak with a few of the other tributes. She eliminated tributes who asked too many questions and wanted to learn about her as a person from her consideration for an ally. She didn't want an ally who would pry into her private life, but would rather mind their own business and help her in survival. By the end of the break, however, Lucy felt no closer to finding an ally.

As the break ended, Lucy found herself heading towards the boxing station. The trainer was a bald man, his colorful tattoos snaking around his scalp to replace the hair. He had a cold, hungry look in his eye that reminded Lucy far too much of Cole from back home. Cole was dead of course, and had been since that fateful day when Lucy made him and part of the orphanage burn. Even though she had been rid of him for four years, the bastard had still managed to get payback from the grave. She wouldn't be in the Games at all if it weren't for him.

"Well now, you look like a fighter if burns and that white eye are anything to go by," the tattooed trainer said as he handed Lucy a pair of boxing gloves.

"Say anything about the burns again and you're going to wish I never stopped by your station," Lucy snarled.

The trainer merely chuckled, and without him giving the word to start, Lucy threw her first punch at the asshat. He was ready to defend himself though, and quickly blocked her hit. They continued for a while, with Lucy acting in both offensive and defensive positions until her left arm grew sore and her right upper rib cage ached. Meanwhile, the trainer's probing and poking at her only served as motivation. Finally, she managed to slug him in the nose hard enough to make him bleed. The trainer swore loudly, then grinning at her.

"Not bad. Come back tomorrow and see if you can do it again."

"My pleasure," said Lucy. "Maybe I'll manage to break your nose next time."

She turned to walk around, and had only taken a few steps before nearly colliding with another tribute. Her good blue eye met a pair of wide ones of around the same shade, though these eyes were far more animated than her own.

"Those fighting skills were amazing," the man said. He was old enough to be her father, but he was bouncing around her like a child.

"Thank you," Lucy said curtly. "Now move. You're in my way."

"Sorry," said the man, side-stepping out of the way so that he was prancing along beside her. "I'm Niels! You're Luciel, right?"

"Lucy." Clearly, this man wasn't going to leave her alone. He was like Tommy, the boy back home who followed her like a puppy and didn't understand social cues.

"Alright, Lucy. Where are you headed?"

Lucy didn't have a destination in mind, so she tried to think of one that would discourage Niels from following her. "Hammock making."

"Really? That sounds fascinating! I'll come too! You know, I had ideas on how to invent a new type of bedding. The mattress could be manipulated to the user's comfort. One could be feel suspended in the air if they wished or create a state of buoyancy for the feeling of floating on waves. The possibilities are endless. It would have really taken off in -"

As Niels talked, he submerged himself deeper into his story, his voice speeding up with every word. Lucy would have trouble following along if she happened to care. As it was, she was quickly losing patience with the eccentric man's energy. No fifty-year-old in Twelve was ever this energetic, although of course, they were too starved to have much energy at all, if they even reached the old age of fifty.

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?" Lucy snapped. "I don't care about your wonder mattress or whatever the fuck you want to call it."

To Lucy's surprise, Niels was not hurt or offended. Instead, he laughed. "No, I suppose I don't. I simply love talking about my work. I find my inventions fascinating."

"Well, I don't. So, back off and go making a fucking hammock, or go somewhere else. I don't give a shit. Just don't go where I'm going."

Niels frowned slightly and dropped back. "Well, if you didn't want to talk with me, you could have just politely said so."

"Whatever." Lucy briskly turned and strode off in the opposite direction.

"Have a nice day!" Niels called behind. She ignored him.

Once again, Lucy didn't have a particular destination in mind, and found herself wandering to the rock climbing wall. Hector, the man from Ten, was the only tribute at the station. When Lucy approached, he was just starting to get harnessed up with a bit of help from the trainer.

Hector nodded in greeting. His almond-shaped, dark brown eyes landed on her burns and white eye, and Lucy prepared herself to snap at him. However, he drifted his gaze away and instead offered her a smile.

"I'm Hector. You decided to have a go at the wall, huh?"

"Lucy. And I guess so, yeah."

"Cool. It'll be good to have some company while I climb."

Lucy nodded before picking up a harness and strapping it on herself. When the trainer reached to help her, she shook her head. She didn't want to give any of these Capitolite perverts a chance to touch her. "I've got it."

The trainer glanced over the harness to ensure it was secure, then nodded. "Suit yourself, Miss. You may begin when your ready."

Lucy and Hector began their ascent. At first, climbing was more difficult than she had expected. The hand grips were smaller and farther apart than she thought they would be, and a few times her foot slipped, although she always regained her balance.

"So is District Twelve really as gloomy as it sounds?" Hector asked after about a minute of climbing.

Lucy snorted. "Worse."

Hector grimaced. "I figured. District Ten isn't bad. I'm a blacksmith there, so I make decent money, enough to get by on anyway. What do you do for a living?"

"I paint, and sell the paintings if I can."

"That's nice," said Hector. "It's good when someone can turn a hobby into a career."

"I wouldn't call it a career, exactly," Lucy said with a scowl. "Although it does keep me from starving."

"That's what's important anyway. Just you, though?"

"Yep. I'm on my own. No family whatsoever."

"Really? Then why are you here?"

"Good fucking question," Lucy snapped. "I gave the kid I gave birth to up. I _shouldn't_ be here."

Hector winced. "Ah, I see. I'm sorry."

"I don't want your sympathy," Lucy growled.

"Alright, fine," said Hector, lifting his free hand up in surrender before grabbing the hand grip again. "No sympathy."

Lucy didn't reply. She kept her head tilted upward, focusing on where she should place her hands and feet next.

"I saw you box with a trainer earlier. You did pretty well." Lucy nodded. "What else have you done?"

"I built fires. I guess you could call it another hobby of mine," Lucy said, her tone serious. "I'm also on the lookout for an ally. No more than one, though."

"Any luck?" Lucy scowled and shook her head. "Yeah, me neither, though I still have a few in mind. You included."

She glanced over at Hector, eying him suspiciously. They had only been speaking for a few minutes, but already he was damn close to offering her an alliance. As much as Lucy needed an ally, she wasn't going to be so quick to trust a stranger. "We know hardly anything about each other. What makes you so sure we'd make good allies?"

"You're a fighter," he said. "I can see it in your expression and hear it in your words. You despise the Capitol and their Games and would take them down if given the chance."

"So you think you're perceptive? Well, that's not hard to guess. Many people are anti-Capitol."

Hector shrugged. "I'm not necessarily perceptive. It's just, my wife, Angelica, had the same passion you did. She was also a fighter. She's… gone now, but she would have never given up no matter what was thrown at her. I see the same strength in you."

"Fine, then what do you have to offer?"

"Physical strength. Skills with a hammer. Some experience with plants. Strong stamina. I'm going to be focusing more on survival skills in the upcoming days as well. So, what do you say? Allies?"

Lucy hesitated. Hector could definitely be a useful ally. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and therefore was still fit and able to defend himself. He also had plenty of muscle and upper body strength. The question was not if Hector would make a reliable, useful ally, but rather if he was _too_ strong. While Lucy wanted a strong ally, she didn't want to have to worry about the same ally overpowering. She needed someone she could have a chance at defeating in a fight if it came to it. She felt Hector's eyes resting uncomfortably upon her, and she knew she had to give him an answer.

"Hm. I have to admit, it's an intriguing offer, but I'm not sure if allying with you is the best choice for me. Give me a few days?"

Hector nodded. "Of course. Take as much time as you need. Also, you might want to look around. We've reached the top."

Surprised, Lucy's head twisted around to face the training room behind her and found that Hector was right. They were about forty feet up, and she had a bird's eye view of each training station. Lucy could have counted all twenty-two other tributes below if she wanted. "So we are."

"Think about my offer carefully, won't you?" Hector asked.

"Sure."

Hector smiled. "Good. I'll see you at the bottom."

Lucy watched as Hector began to propel himself down the wall. After enjoying the peaceful moment of silence for a few seconds, she followed him.

 **Author's Note: Thank you, Google, for teaching me proper weapon techniques. Not that I'll ever use this information for anything beyond writing. Seriously though, if you're ever writing a training scene and you have no idea how a certain skill should be taught… simply Google it. :)**

 **So this was the longest chapter I ever wrote, breaking the record I set last chapter, haha… Hopefully you guys don't mind the length. :) That's also part of the reason it took so long (you know, other than these things called college and life). I'll try to keep each training chapter under 8,000 words (not counting A/Ns) while still showing you at least a look at what everyone is up to.**

 **For those of you that also read Champion of Destruction, the next chapter of that should be out within the next week or so. :)**


	13. Chapter 11: Training Day 2

**Author's Note: Again, mentions of mental illness in Zane's POV.**

 **Chapter 11: Training Day 2**

 **Niels Bundar, District Three Male, 51**

Niels found it easier than expected to forget about the Games for a while, though he supposed that was what the Capitolites intended. The suite he and his "team", as Candy called them, were staying in was larger than his and at least three of his neighbors' homes put together back in Three. His bed had just the right amount of padding to have the perfect balance between firm and soft, and the showers had more settings than he could use in a month. Niels spent close to an hour of his free time in the shower with his clothes on and without the water running, just trying to discover how each button worked. To his surprise, he could think of no way to improve the shower, and he desperately wanted to meet the individual who had invented it and personally congratulate them. So many luxuries, and yet, nothing could compare to the food.

Oh, the food! There was so much of it, platters upon platters of various dishes at each meal Niels ate. Not only was there so much variety, but every bite Niels took felt like he had spooned up a piece of heaven and put it in his mouth. Never before had he eaten so many meals that truly should have been only worthy for a king. His favorite, of course, were the sweets. There was triple chocolate cake, cheesecake drizzled with caramel and chocolate and sprinkles with nuts, dozens of flavors of ice cream, and best of all, hundreds of variations of candy. Forget his old job, if Niels won the Games, he would open up his own candy factory, and spend his days inventing new flavors for people to enjoy.

Thinking about starting a candy factory brought Niels back to the present. He knew, of course, that the Capitol pampered tributes as a distraction from focusing too much on the dark days ahead. Niels knew he should not feel relaxed, and a sense of panic would likely settle in by the night of the interviews at the latest. Yet, he couldn't help but enjoy the luxuries presented to him. The Capitol was filled with so many marvelous possibilities, that Niels wanted to forget the evil lying within. However, forgetting was something Niels knew he could never do. Not only was it impossible, but to turn a blind eye to injustice was as bad as committing it yourself.

When Niels came to breakfast on the second day of training, he was surprised to find the second mentor, Plato Salsburg, pulled up to the table in his wheelchair. Plato was sixty-four years old, but he looked at least ten years older. His gray hair was receding, and his pale blue eyes were surrounded by wrinkles. Upon boarding the train, Niels and Volustre had expected to find Candy and two mentors, but instead were greeted only by the escort and Argon Humphrey, the victor of the eighty-second Hunger Games. Argon had explained that while Plato was forced to report to the Capitol to mentor since he was one of the only two living victors District Three had left, the older man had refused to do his job properly since Argon became victor. As such, Argon would serve as both tributes' mentor. Niels decided that was fine; even though Argon had never brought home a victor in his eighteen years of mentoring, he had brought a handful of tributes to at least the top five. Unfortunately, after that point, Three's tributes always ran out of luck. They were long overdue for another victor, and Argon had become nearly obsessed with getting one.

"Hello, Mr. Salsburg," Niels said politely as he sat down at the table. Currently, they were alone at the table.

Plato didn't look up from his plate. "I'm not here to converse with you or offer advice. You were told this. I'm only here because I have a mandatory meeting this morning, and I want breakfast."

"Oh, alright. I'll leave you to your own devices then." Niels sighed a little. He had run into so many people lately who had no interest in having a friendly chat. It was all growing a bit exhausting.

Fortunately, Niels wasn't lonely for long, as Candy, Volustre, and the stylists soon joined him. Niels liked his district partner and escort. Tre was a very serious person, but she was kind just the same. She was willing to listen to anything Niels wanted to rant about. Candy was very animated, yet sophisticated, and Niels found himself enjoying conversing with her during meals. Perhaps not all Capitolites were so bad after all.

"Where's Argon," Niels asked, noticing the victor's absence.

"He is attending a meeting," Candy replied.

"A meeting before the meeting?"

Candy smiled. "Yes, of sorts. Madam President herself has requested his presence.

Niels raised an eyebrow. Argon must be an important victor in order to have a private meeting with President Snow. Either that, or a rebellious one.

Upon finishing breakfast, Niels scooped up a handful of hard candies from the bowl and stuffed them in his pocket. Candy watched him as he did so.

"Careful, Niels," she warned. "Don't give yourself a stomachache."

He smiled at her concern. "I won't."

As they did yesterday, he and Tre followed Candy to the training floor. The head trainer gave them a few reminders before allowing them to roam freely. Niels looked around the spacious room, unsure of where to go. Being the oldest tribute and therefore lacking the physical strength that many of the other parents had, Niels wanted to stick with survival stations. He also wanted to make some trustworthy allies who could keep him company and help him out. So far, luck hadn't been on his side. No one he had spoken to had even seem remotely interested in allying with him. Finally, Niels spied the women from Ten and Eleven crouching down at the fire building station and decided he had about as good of chance with them then he did with anyone. Both women looked up as he approached, and Niels gave a cheerful wave.

"Hi, I'm Niels Bundar, from District Three."

The woman from Ten smiled. "Nice to meet you! I'm Lil Carey."

"Circe Banks," Lil's companion said, her voice more timid.

"How's it going over here? I've never built a fire back home."

"Well, we just started, but it seems to be going fine," said Lil.

"Good! Mind if I join you?"

Lil shook her head. "Not at all!"

Niels began by watching the trainer start a fire by using flint and kindling. Once he felt he had a good grasp on the concept, he took the materials from the trainer and took a seat next to Lil and Circe on the floor. From making small talk, Niels realized the three of them had quite a bit in common, including the fact that they each had two children.

"I know Dean and Addilyn will be fine on their own while I'm gone," Niels told the women, "but Dean is only seventeen, and the kids already lost their mother. I don't want them to lose their father, too."

Lil nodded. "I can't imagine what that must be like. I mean, I definitely don't want to die, but if I didn't make it home, at least my girls still have my wife, Ling."

"That must be some comfort. Do you still have your partner, Circe?"

The frail woman nodded. "My husband. His name is Harvey."

Niels smiled, hoping to encourage Circe to open up more. "What's he like?"

"He's sweet and kind. He works hard for our family."

"That's wonderful," Niels replied. "What do you do for work?"

"In the fields, mostly, with everyone else."

"Ling and I own a farm," Lil chimed in.

"Interesting!" said Niels. "I come from a much different culture. District Three doesn't have much opportunities to work outside and experience nature, I'm afraid. Instead, I'm a Capitol Scientist."

"Do you work in the Capitol?" Lil asked.

Niels shook his head. "No, I work in Three. My inventions and experiments are shipped straight to the Capitol, though, just like any other district product."

Lil cheered as her pile of kindling caught a spark and began to burn. Niels looked at her fire, and then back at his own. "How did you do that so quickly?" he asked, striking his flint yet again.

Lil observed him for a few seconds before nodding in understanding. "I think you need to move faster."

After taking Lil's advice, Niels had his fire ignited in no time at all. Circe had managed to set her pile aflame as well.

"Where to now?" Circe asked, looking towards Lil.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go to the spears station. I want to learn a weapon for defense, and no one is around now." Circe nodded, and Lil turned to Niels. "It's been nice talking to you."

"Oh, you too! Would you mind if I tag along for a bit longer."

"Sure you can," said Lil. "We'd appreciate the company."

Niels smiled and followed the younger women to their destination. He may not have known them long, but Niels found it easy to trust both Lil and Circe. Neither he nor the two women may not be the strongest tributes, but all three of them had different skills that could potentially help them in the arena. Niels could definitely see Lil and Circe as his allies, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. They could reject him, of course, but he'd never know for sure until he asked.

"Are you two allies?"

Lil beamed. "We are!"

"Do you have room for one more."

"That sounds fine to me." She looked at Circe. "How about you?"

The other woman nodded quickly, smiling gently at Niels. "We'll be happy to have you."

Niels couldn't help but grin. He had allies! The prospect of the Games had just grown slightly less intimidating.

* * *

 **Zane Oupfield, District Nine Male, 36**

The escort for District Nine, Essylt, had to drag Zane out of his bed on the morning of the second training day. Needless to say, she had not been happy about it. Eventually, she got him to the training floor, though he and Saffron had nearly been made late because of his reluctance.

Even though he had made it to the floor, Zane's hesitation to do anything productive still remained. For the first half-hour of the day, he wandered around aimlessly. His body craved alcohol, drugs, or both. Zane couldn't live without his addictions, despite knowing that they were one of the countless reasons his family left him. Even more so, Zane longed to be out of this state of depression. He longed for hypomania, the state where he felt brave, free. He missed the feeling of elation and hyperactivity. During a state of hypomania was the only time Zane ever felt brave enough to approach his family. In his case, a state of depression could last for several months, while hypomania often lasted only a few days. Sometimes, Zane felt nothing at all other than numb, though those days were rare.

When Zane found the motivation to settle at a station, he was soon driven off by the Career pack heading his way, particularly the obnoxious and intimidating presence of Valor and Justus. Not wanting to deal with them, Zane had scurried off, without the knife leaving his hand even once. He heard Justus laugh behind him, but he didn't care enough to look back to see if the man from Two was laughing at him or not.

Eventually, Zane found himself at the camouflage station. He wasn't sure what brought him there. Perhaps it was because no one else was around it, or more likely, because he had just started walking and that was where his feet had taken him. He watched awkwardly as the trainer demonstrated how to use the materials, trying his best to at least partially focus on her words. The task seemed easy enough. Maybe he'd be lucky enough that he could just cover himself in mud and leaves and hide the whole Games. He strongly doubted he'd have that much luck though. He never did. Zane Oupfield just wasn't a lucky person, a fact he had accepted long ago.

Somehow, Zane thought the process of covering himself with natural substances oddly relaxing. Not as relaxing as drugs, of course, but the act was so laid back that he allowed his mind to settle down for a while. In fact, he was so involved in his work, that at first, he failed to notice a fellow tribute that had snuck up behind him. It wasn't until the man sneezed that Zane realized his presence. He jumped, smearing the earth-like paint on his arm. The man behind him had a slightly stocky build, with ruffled dark blonde hair and round baby blue eyes. Zane didn't know his name, nor the names of any of the tributes besides Saffron for that matter, but the large number twelve on the sleeve of the man's training jacket told Zane everything he cared to know about him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the man said sheepishly. "I was just, uh… watching."

"It's… fine," Zane replied, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"I'm Joshua, by the way. Joshua Yates." Zane only nodded, causing Joshua's friendly expression to fall slightly. "And… you?"

"Zane." Zane didn't like the situation he was in. He didn't want to socialize. He wanted to flee, but he couldn't exactly do that with camouflage materials still covering his body. Working quickly, he began to scrub off the paint and grime. Joshua seemed to sense his uncomfortableness and took a small step back. Neither of the two men spoke as Zane left the station, intending to return later.

Feeling ready for a break, Zane slid down against a wall and allowed his eyes to roam the training room. He saw the careers watching the man from Ten partake in hand-to-hand combat. The men from Seven and Eleven chatted at the fire station. The women from Ten and Eleven and the man from Three were with the spears. The women from Three and Five were both maneuvering the obstacle course. At the knot-tying station, the man from Four and the woman from Eight worked side by side, not saying much to one another. Everyone else seemed to be alone, scattered around the room. Now matter what each tribute was doing, Zane was confident they were much better off than he was. He stood no chance.

Zane wasn't scared of death, exactly. He moreso regretted the fact that he was never a better father to his only daughter, Autiaum. Zane remembered when his ex-wife, Daria, got pregnant eleven years ago. Naturally, he had been terrified. Zane never thought he would fall in love and become a parent, but somehow, both had happened. Zane knew he had been a terrible husband, and an even worse father. When his depression was at his worst back before Daria had taken their daughter and left, Zane found himself unable to be productive in any way, even to help out with chores around the house. Instead of being an asset, Zane was a liability to his family. Even the rare occasions when Zane felt neither depressed nor elated, he still had very little idea how to properly parent Autiaum. He hated going out in public, only leaving home when necessary. In addition, he was constantly terrified that he would hurt his daughter in some way, so he avoided having much interaction with her. Despite not sharing a close bond with Autiaum, Zane missed her, and wanted nothing more than to reenter her life. She was young when Zane and Daria divorced, though he couldn't remember how young she was exactly. Five maybe? Six? Young enough where she had already grown up so much since then. She was ten now; Zane was sure about that much. He also knew that Autiaum was kind-hearted and liked to help broken people, much like her mother. However, the difference between Autiaum and her mother was that Daria already knew that Zane was unable to be helped, a lesson Autiaum had yet to learn completely.

Zane sharply turned his gaze to the front of the room as the bell for lunch startled him out of his thoughts. He didn't feel like eating, especially when he was so used to only eating as little as it took to survive. However, he couldn't just sit around while the other tributes ate their meal. He had tried that yesterday, and the trainers forced him up, one of them even kicking at him to move. His ribs were still slightly sore from the event.

By the time he finally made himself move, Zane was the last person in line. Today Avoxes were serving some type of meat that was slightly pink and decorated in sauce and fancy garnishes. Zane decided there was likely at least twenty different ingredients on the plate, and he could only name two or three. What was the point of this, wasting such expensive food on twenty-three people who were just going to die within the next couple of weeks? The effort seemed like a waste of energy to Zane, but clearly, the Capitolites in charge of pre-Hunger Games affairs disagreed.

As Zane looked for a place to sit, he wondered if there were less tables than the day before, or if it was his imagination. Unfortunately for him, there were no more tables available where he could sit alone. Instead, Zane opted to sit across from the man from Five, who was currently alone. Just from a basic observation, Zane knew this man to be a solitary person. It was fairly likely that he would mind his own business and leave Zane well enough alone. He took a seat, and the other man gave him a brief, polite nod before staring down at his food. Zane followed suit

If only all of the tributes could act this way.

* * *

 **Calissa Peer, District Six Female, 26**

Calissa had always had a soft spot for the vulnerable. She had gotten that trait from her mother, a woman who was kind and loving and who had raised Calissa to be the same. She also supposed it came from raising two little boys who suffered from a fatal disease. In the past five years, Calissa had found little time for much else besides nurturing her son. She had inherited her parents' money after their deaths a few years previous, and that fund combined with the checks Cameron sent her each month meant that she could focus on spending all her time caring for Damien, even if that meant sometimes going without food herself. Putting Damien first came naturally to Calissa. It was a mother's job, after all.

Calissa's motherly nature had also led her to wanting to help out the younger tributes, hopefully allying with them. At twenty-six, however, Calissa was young herself, leaving not many options. Nineteen-year-old Ivory from One was a trained Career and, as one should expect, a part of the Career pack. Although he wasn't part of the pack, twenty-year-old Marin was also clearly trained, someone Calissa wasn't sure she could trust. That had left eighteen-year-old Lucy from District Twelve. The downside to Lucy, however, seemed to be her turbulent unpredictability. From the moment she was reaped, Lucy proved to be a fierce risk-taker. Calissa hadn't spoken to her, but from what she had seen, Lucy's personality was harsh and unforgiving. Just the day before, Calissa had seen her snap at the kindly man from Three. Clearly, Lucy was not the kind of young mother who would take well to being "nurtured" by Calissa, and it was doubtful she would even need it. As a more sensitive person, Calissa couldn't see herself working with Lucy, and was forced to come up with a new plan. Now instead of young tributes, Calissa was looking for anyone trustworthy, who would make good company while also giving her some space when she needed it.

So far, her search hadn't been going well. She had spoken to Anita from Eight, a woman about ten years older than herself. Anita had politely responded to Calissa's efforts to start a conversation, but had eventually expressed her desire to not ally with anyone in the arena. Calissa hadn't pushed her, instead dropping the subject from Five and Zane from Nine didn't speak to anyone, and Calissa was sure they wouldn't want allies either. She had also spoken with Saffron from Nine, but had decided the forty-five-year-old woman was simply to frail to be much of a help. Victor and Niels were friendly, Calissa noticed, but talked endlessly, something Calissa knew she would grow tired of eventually, but would be too polite to say anything. Dresden from Eight oozed untrustworthiness, and Districts One, Two, and Four were obviously out as well. Calissa wouldn't despair, though. She still had about a day and a half to work something out. If not, she could always ask her district partner, Maddox.

So far in training, Calissa had been focusing on stations that involved plants, shelter, and self-defense. District Six's only remaining mentor, Noa Ernest, had told Calissa and Maddox that survival skills were often even more important than skills with weapons. They said that if a tribute couldn't find water or food, they would die of thirst or starvation, or at the very least, be weakened enough to the point where they would be too weak to defend themselves against attacks from other tributes or gamemaker-induced threats. Depending on the arena, if the tributes had no concept of making a fire or shelter, they could risk exposing themselves to the elements. Agreeing with Noa, Calissa had been trying to make sure her training was well-rounded. She had begun the second morning running through the plant identification station until she was at least twice as confident about which were edible than she had been beforehand. She had also been working with throwing knives, not to be able to chase down other tributes, but to defend herself if needed. The knives trainer had explained where to aim the knife to injure someone and where to stab if she wanted the blow to be fatal, as the tasks required a different strategy. Although Calissa was fairly confident she could complete either task if necessary, she hoped she would never have to use the skill in the arena.

When the break for lunch arrived, Calissa decided to continue the search for allies. After being handed a tray of food, Calissa glanced around at her seating options. Only about half the tributes had taken a seat before her, while the rest were still in line. Volustre from Three and Varia from Five had just taken a seat across from one another at one of the tables. Thinking back to the parade, Calissa remembered speaking with the older woman from Five. She knew Varia had been looking for allies as well and seemed to have similar goals as herself. Varia had seemed very kind, and from the brief moment of conversation, felt that Varia was someone who was likely able to be trusted. Calissa hadn't spoken to Volustre yet, but this was the perfect opportunity to do so.

The two women glanced towards Calissa as she approached. Varia smiled in recognition. "Hi Calissa. How has training been going?"

"Fine, I think. I've been covering survival and self-defense. Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," said Varia, and Volustre nodded.

"Call me Tre," the woman from Three said. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. What have you two been up to?"

"Survival stations and spears," Varia replied. "I've been trying to talk with the other tributes too."

Tre nodded. "I've been working with some of the more nontraditional weapons, though I haven't really found one that works for me yet. Varia and I just ran the obstacle course as well."

"I didn't do too badly compared to you, considering I'm an old lady," Varia joked.

"You did fine," Tre replied, "and really, you're not that old."

Varia shrugged. "I'm not insulting myself. I'm forty-nine, one of the oldest tributes here. I'm probably old enough to be your mother, both of you! Just barely, but still possible."

"Forty-nine? You don't look it at all!" Calissa said sincerely. If she had to guess, she would have said Varia was in her late thirties or early forties. Her shoulder-length hair, which was mostly blonde with some brown mixed in, was youthful and shiny. Her bright blue eyes were so piercing, they looked as though they would never dull with age. Her body was slender, yet fit, and Calissa imagined she could have gotten through the obstacle course without too much difficulty at all.

Varia grinned. "Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment. Now where were we before Calissa joined us?"

"You were talking about your family before we sat down," Tre prompted. "You have two daughters, correct?"

"Oh, right. Yes, I do. Valerie is seventeen, and Emilia thirteen."

"Do teenagers keep you busy?" Calissa asked.

Varia nodded. "Definitely. Valerie has been a blessing, never causing trouble her whole life. Emilia is a bit more difficult, rebelling in school and refusing our help, but my husband, Nale, and I have been trying. No matter what choices she makes, we'll always love her. With working as an accountant and looking after my mother, who just suffered a stroke, life has been fairly stressful as of late."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Tre. "How is she doing?"

"Fine. She needs quite a lot of help, though. My family has been very supportive."

"That's good," Calissa said, feeling a little bit jealous. With her parents dead and Cameron living elsewhere, Calissa had no emotional support when caring for Damien. It was just her and her little boy against fate. Calissa remembered a time when she did have someone she could turn to, a best friend named Diana Kerring. However, the pair had drifted apart after Calissa's other son, Robin, first got sick, and Calissa put all her time and energy into caring for her twins. She hadn't spoken to Diana in years until after the reaping, when the two women had had such little time to catch up on years of lost friendship.

"What about you Calissa?" Varia asked suddenly.

Startled, Calissa realized she had faded out of the conversion for a while. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

"Tell us about your family."

"I have a five-year-old son, Damien, who is suffering from Scalapino's disease, a genetic disorder that developed during the dark days. We already lost his twin brother, Robin to it, and Damien's prognosis is just as bleak. He won't make it much longer, but... he needs me. My husband Cameron and I are separated for now, and I'm not sure how much Damien remembers his father. He's probably so scared, and I'm here. I just… I want my little boy back." Calissa's voice cracked, and she brought her hand to her eyes to brush away the tears that had begun to form there. She had no idea how she was going to make it through the Games if this kept happening to her every time she thought of Damien.

Varia looked sincerely heartbroken and seemed to be fighting back her own tears, while Tre placed a hand on Calissa's back, giving it a gentle pat. "Damien is lucky to have a mother who's willing to fight for him," Tre said.

Calissa gave a small nod. "Thank you."

"You know," Varia said slowly. "The three of us have a lot in common, fighting to give our families the best life they can have. We all have different skills too, so maybe we could consider forming an alliance? I could see us working well together, if you two agree."

Calissa and Tre looked at each other, then back at Varia.

"I think that's a great idea," said Calissa, smiling slightly.

Tre nodded. "I agree."

Varia held her hand, and her new allies shook it. Calissa knew that just because she now had allies, didn't mean the fight in the arena wouldn't necessarily become automatically less challenging. The alliance, however, was a great place to start.

* * *

 **Victor Mackall, District Eleven Male, 40**

Finally, after forty years of living, Victor was receiving the kind of treatment he had deserved all his life. The Capitol had been treating him and the other tributes as though they were high-ranking Capitolite officials, rather than the district citizens they were. Victor never saw himself as an ordinary District Eleven citizen, so it never made sense to him why he had to live in a place full of oppression and poverty rather than a district of luxury - or better yet the Capitol - anyway. At the very least, he could have been born in District Three, where he could have put his bright mind to use, but alas, he had to call District Eleven home. The most annoying part of it all was how the Capitol had waited until they were reaped for death to give the tributes any sort of recognition. Victor felt he was being handled far too little too late.

Besides the luxuries handed over to him, Victor hadn't been having a good experience in the Capitol. He had spent time at so many stations, but had hardly learned anything. How was even someone as bright and book smart as him expected to learn so many necessary skills in only two and a half days? Clearly all the stations were here for a reason, and each one must have had some importance, so Victor knew he should try as many stations as possible. Thorne, District Eleven's only victor had said to take it slow and to focus on only a few. Yes, Thorne had won the Games and experienced training first hand, but he didn't know Victor. He couldn't know what Victor needed more than Victor knew himself, after all. Besides, while Thorne was talkative and humorous, he also seemed to be an anxious man, and already had a lot on his plate with mentoring Victor's shy, sensitive district partner, Circe. Therefore, Victor decided it would be best to help himself.

In addition to the overwhelming amount of information before him, Victor had also been having trouble finding an ally. None of the tributes he had talked to seemed interested, and some had even been cold towards him, even though he had just been trying to be friendly. The man from Four, Marin, had even rejected an alliance that morning after telling Victor that he didn't think he had anything to offer. Well then, Victor would show him! Just because he wasn't from a higher district didn't mean he didn't have skills and couldn't be a strong force. Really, all Victor needed in an ally was someone to talk to in the arena, and he was running out of time to find even that. Even his district partner, Circe, seemed to manage to find an alliance, but he didn't think they were interested in adding one more.

With just less than an hour left in training, Victor pondered where to stop next. There was still so much he hadn't gone to yet, that he had no idea what he should prioritize. He spotted the man from Seven, Chase, at the mutt identification station, and upon realizing he had yet to speak with him, decided to head over.

With just less than an hour left in training, Victor pondered where to stop next. There was still so much he hadn't gone to yet, that he had no idea what he should prioritize. He spotted the man from Seven, Chase, at the mutt identification station, and upon realizing he had yet to speak with him, decided to head over.

"Hello," Victor greeted, giving him a wave.

"Ah, good I have company. I was getting lonely."

"Well, since I have graced your presence, you are lonely no more."

Chase laughed. "Good to hear. I'm Chase. Chase Aldreon, District Seven."

Victor shook his hand. "Victor Mackall. District Eleven. What are you up to?"

"Studying mutts and their abilities and weaknesses. I mean, I don't know what the chances are that we'll see any of these mutts in the arena, but I think it'd be good to know if I should run, climb a tree, or scream, you know?"

Victor grinned. "Good point." He glanced down at the screen Chase was hovering over. "Tracker Jackers. They have been in many Games, correct?"

Chase nodded. "Most notably in the Seventy-fourth Games, when Katniss Everdeen used them as a weapon and ended up killing two Careers, according to this screen."

"Does it go by Games then?"

"Yeah." Chase swiped his finger across the screen to change the page. "This page is on the wolf mutts of the same Games. It says here the mutts' eyes resembled those of the deceased tributes."

Victor couldn't help but shudder. "I wouldn't want to run into them in the arena."

"Nah, I don't fancy being shred to bits either, come to think about it," Chase said.

The two many scrolled through the pages of mutts, with Victor glancing over his shoulder. They read about Jabberjays and Mockingjays, monkeys, lions, bears, and even fictional animal hybrids. Each looked terrifying to Victor, and he wasn't sure if he could fend off any of them if he came across them in the arena.

"You know what mutt would be the most frightening of all, more so than any of these?" Chase asked.

"No. What?"

"A duck mutt."

Victor stared at him blankly. He couldn't be serious. "A… duck mutt?"

"Yeah. Nasty little beasts, ducks are. They look all cute and innocent, but are really vicious deep inside. I swear, ducks are out to get me I swear."

Victor continued to stare, tilting his head a little. Had Chase lost his mind? Perhaps he had experienced some traumatic event as a little boy, where a duck bite him on the finger and plotted revenge or something. Did ducks even live in District Seven? Victor was unsure. Suddenly, Chase burst out laughing.

"The look on your face! I don't really fear ducks. I mean, I'm sure some people do, and maybe I shouldn't poke fun, but I personally do not have Anatidaephobia."

"The fear of ducks?" Victor asked, guessing the meaning of the word.

Chase nodded. "Well, more so the fear of ducks, geese and other waterfowl watching you wherever you go."

"How odd…"

"It's very tragic," Chase replied.

Getting back on track, Victor and Chase continued to read about the seemingly endless supply of mutts the Capitol had to offer while simultaneously having lighthearted small talk. Before Victor knew it, a bell rang, causing many tributes to look up. "

Stop what what you are doing," the sharp voice of the Head Trainer commanded. "Training is done for the day. You are dismissed."

Chase turned to Victor and gave him a cheerful smile. "Well, thanks for keeping me company and letting me rant about ducks. Have a good night."

"Chase, wait," Victor called after him as he begun to walk away.

Chase stopped and glanced back at Victor over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Do you have any allies?"

"No, not yet. I'm pathetically all on my lonesome I'm afraid."

"Good," said Victor. "I mean, not good that you're alone, but… we could be allies."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering an alliance?"

Victor nodded eagerly. "Sure! Why not? It would be nice to have a friend in there."

"Who said anything about friends? Maybe I secretly hate you," said Chase with a wink.

Victor laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I just assumed ally and friend was a package deal."

Chase fell silent, and didn't speak for so long Victor wondered if he was about to be rejected. Finally, the other man nodded. "You know, since I don't hate you, I'll agree. We can be allies."

Victor beamed. "Great! See you tomorrow!"

Chase nodded. "Yep. See you then." He then joined his district partner, Liz, and followed his escort out the door. Victor did the same, standing by his blue-haired escort Gloria as he watched Circe wave goodbye to Lil from Ten and Niels from Three.

"How was your day?" Gloria asked, smiling cheerfully.

Circe gave a small smile. She had been timid around the escort at first, but Gloria's warm, nurturing personality had helped her warm up to her. "Fine."

"Mine was great!" Victor chimed in. "Things have finally turned around in my favor."

Gloria grinned so widely it was though his statement had brightened her whole day. "Wonderful! I can't wait to hear about it!"

Truth be told, Victor couldn't wait to talk about it either.

 **Author's Note: Training Day Two is complete! Here we have the development of several alliances. Which is your favorite so far, from these and the ones that formed last chapter?**

 **Since I have a whole week off from classes for Thanksgiving, I hope to get the third day out by the end of the month, giving me about two weeks to do so. Cross your fingers that college treats me nicely**! **:)**


	14. Chapter 12: Training Day 3

**Chapter 12: Training Day 3**

 **Meridian Vale, District Four Female, 29**

"Rise and shine," Diemos, District Four's escort, cheered in Meridian's ear, shaking her shoulder roughly to wake her up. "Time to start the day."

Meridian groaned and rolled over, but not before throwing one of the bed's many pillows towards Diemos' face. "Ten more minutes, please."

"Whoa!" Diemos laughed before tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "I'm sorry Meridian, but you don't have time to sleep! Today is the last morning of training, and then after lunch it's straight to your private sessions. You don't want to late for that."

Meridian sighed. "Fine. I'll be out soon."

"Good," Diemos replied before heading to Marin's room across the hall. Meridian shut the door behind him and changed into her training outfit before heading out to the main room for breakfast, where the stylists, and the mentors, Zale and Cass, were already waiting.

"Morning."

"Good morning," said Zale. "Get enough beauty rest?"

"I would have if Diemos didn't so rudely wake me up," Meridian joked, sitting at the table and sliding a stack of pancakes onto her plate.

Cass grinned. "Trust me, we all wish Diemos would let us sleep in. Unfortunately, it will be weeks before any of us get to sleep in."

"I'm always up at the crack of dawn anyway. The early bird catches the worm as they say. Or, you know, the early fisherman catches the fish in District Four terms," Zale said.

"Well, I hope you saved some fish for me, or whatever it is we're eating," said Marin as he entered the room and took his seat next to Meridian.

"No fish, but we have plenty of pancakes and waffles," said Zale.

Marin stabbed a couple of waffles and dropped them onto his waiting plate. "Sounds great."

As they ate, the cheerful chatter continued. Meridian had to admit the light-hearted small talk felt a bit odd to engage in just a few days before a fight to the death, but she wasn't going to complain. Cass and Zale both had agreeable personalities, and they weren't assholes like many other career victors, so Meridian found it easy to get along with them. Marin was the same way, and even though he had volunteered, Meridian got the sense his heart was in the right place.

"Aw, look at this," Bubbles, Meridian's stylist squealed. "All of us talking like we're all one big happy family!"

"It is kind of nice," Marin spoke up, smiling a little.

Zale, meanwhile, laughed. "I appreciate the thought, Bubbles, but I already have four brothers and countless cousins. I don't need any more family."

"Besides, this family is about to be broken up anyway when one or both of us die in the arena," Meridian added.

Diemos and the stylists stared at her, stunned at her bluntness, while Cass shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "well, she's right."

"It's just the truth."

The group was silent for a minute or two, until Zale spoke up again. "So have you two found any allies?"

Marin shook his head. "I haven't found a good fit yet."

"Neither have I."

"Well, we know you don't want to work with One and Two, but have you considered working with each other?" Cass asked.

Meridian and Marin glanced at each other, both seeming to expect the other to answer. However it was Zale that spoke. "I would strongly encourage it. I'm not saying either of you are weak on your own, but two strong tributes have a greater chance of taking down not only One and Two, but also stronger outer district tributes, than either of you have alone. Very few tributes from Four have won by going solo."

"Hm… well as long as he doesn't annoy me, I can see us making that work," Meridian finally replied.

"I'll be on my best behavior," Marin said, winking. "In all seriousness though, I agree. We'll make a good team. Should we stick together in training this morning to make sure?"

Meridian shrugged. "Sure."

Once breakfast wrapped up, Meridian and Marin headed down to the training floor. Meridian couldn't help but zone out as the Head Trainer repeated the same instructions he had given the past two days. It was Marin that brought her back to the present.

"What have you been working on?"

"Mostly knives, hand to hand, and survival skills. You?"

"I've been hovering around survival skills. I don't want to draw attention, especially that of One and Two. Back home I trained with a bow and knives though. So if we can get knives and a bow and arrows from the Cornucopia, that would be great."

Meridian nodded. "Do I need to prove my worth to you, Mr. Volunteer?"

"If you want. I'll take your word for it either way."

Meridian fought the urge to laugh. She wouldn't take her word for it if she were him. She wouldn't have taken anyone's word until she actually saw them perform. Why should she be trusted to know what she was doing? While other teenagers trained for hours on end, Meridian had spent her youth having fun, drinking while underage, climbing ocean cliffs, and living a life full of risk and adventure. The best part of it all was that as her parents' only darling child, they let her get away with it. All of it. It took mouthing off to the peacekeepers and getting arrested and whipped at age seventeen for her parents to reign her in a bit and finally ground her for what seemed like a dozen years. The biggest turning point in her life came when her son, Zachary, was born. Though she enjoyed having fun with her boy, Meridian tended to push her wild side to the curb in an attempt to be a good, responsible mother for Zachary. For eight years, Zachary had come first above anything else in Meridian's life, and it would stay that way until the day Meridian died, which would hopefully still be at least half a century away.

Meridian led her district partner and ally to the knife station and nodded at the trainer before casually taking a handful of knives and threw them one by one at dummies that darted from wall to wall of the station. She tried to image the knife as being an extension of her arm. She had been hard at work at this station for the past two days, and it was time to see if it had paid off. Out of the seven knives thrown, one hit the head's bullseye right where she had aimed, three hit outer rings of the stomach targets, two hit the dummies' limbs, and only one had hit the floor, but not before grazing what would have been the dummy's ear. All in all, not to bad.

Marin nodded in approval. "And this is with no prior training? I'm fairly impressed."

"Thanks. I've spent hours here trying to improve my aim. Also, just because I haven't trained doesn't mean I haven't built up skills of athleticism and agility. Running around the district as a teen has kept me fit, I guess."

"That would do it," Marin admitted. "Do you want to keep working here, or brush up on some other skills before the private sessions begin?"

Meridian hesitated, debating his question. Learning to throw knives was important, and she was happy she had been able to pick up with a decent amount of accuracy, but if she wanted to impress the Gamemakers, she'd have to show them more than the performance she just gave Marin. "I think I feel fairly confident about this. Do you want to test our skills on the rock wall?" She grinned deviously. "We could race."

Marin laughed. "You're on."

The rock wall was more Meridian's forte than the knives. She couldn't count how many times she had climbed the beach cliffs near her childhood home and fall gracefully back into the water. Climbing came as naturally to her as walking, and she had scaled up the wall in the time it took Marin to reach only about two-thirds of the way. Peering down at him from her perch on the top of the wall, she grinned in victory.

"What's taking so long?"

Marin didn't answer until he reached her. "Well aren't you a regular mountain goat?"

"I guess it's just in my blood. By the way, I am _far_ from regular."

Marin laughed. "If you say so."

The two started their descent, with Meridian slowing her pace slightly to match Marin's more closely. Still, it didn't not take long for them both to be solidly on the ground.

"What now?" Marin asked.

Before Meridian could answer, she was distracted by the crash and clangs of metal hitting the floor and a man's angry shout.

"You little bitch!"

* * *

 **Justus Fiore, District Two Male, 34**

Justus was disappointed in this year's Career Pack. He had expected so much better. With two reaped tributes and the Four tributes dropping out of the alliance altogether, the state of the alliance was honestly subpar. He'd gotten over it though, and would just have to make due with what they had. Ivory and Arista had proved themselves more than capable, and even though he hadn't found anyone else worthy of being part of the pack, Justus had faith that they would still manage to be just as a strong of a force as any other year. Not joining the pack was Marin and Meridian's loss, not his.

The first two days of training had been fairly successful. Valor, Arista, and himself were all trainers on an at least part-time, small academy level, and Ivory was only a year out of being a trainee herself, so there really wasn't many skills that needed brushing up on. Most of the first few days had been spent assessing strengths and intimidating the competition. Ivory had been determined to show her worth, and proved to be most skilled with whips and daggers. Arista focused on hand-to-hand combat, using a less common weapon called a chakram. Valor had spent time observing other tributes. Justus took a different approach and worked with all the weapons, especially those he knew best, such as the swords, mostly to show off his skills.

On the final morning, the pack decided to split off just for the day. The women both chose to visit some survival stations, while Valor wanted to scout out the other tributes from up close. Justus, meanwhile, wanted to have a bit of fun.

Naturally, Justus liked to seem confident with weapons. He had strived for years to perfect his skills, and as his result, had pushed himself ever since he was a child. Though he hated to admit it, sometimes he pushed himself too far, and often times wondered if all the training he did was enough. He couldn't become a trainer without the skills to back him up, of course, and there were some weapons he never used and never really bothered to perfect, but unless the Cornucopia was stocked with only one type of weapon, he wouldn't have to worry about that. Yet, even someone as deserving of victor as Justus couldn't shake off the nerves. What if, after all that training, he still wasn't good enough? What if his leg, which had been weakened from being pierced with a bullet as a teen, failed him? What if…

The only logical thing to do in his final hours of training to get his mind away from such nonsensical thoughts was to scare the shit over the weaker competition. As a Career, Justus was intimidating on his own. Like most men from Two, he was tall and strong-built, and any person in their right mind would be terrified to face him in a fight. However, there was no harm in showing off a little, was there? He glanced around the weapon stations, debating which unsuspecting tribute he should grace with his presence first. Eventually, he strolled over to the knives station, where the woman from Seven was working alone.

"District Seven!" Justus's booming voice made the woman tense. He smirked in response. "What are you up to this fine morning?"

"Training," she said, stating the obvious.

"Clearly. You do realize this is pointless, right? I'm the clear choice for victor." Justus threw a knife, and winked at the woman as it hit the center of the dummy's forehead.

The woman merely shrugged.

"Of course, you are the mother of a victor," Justus recalled. "Calico, is it?"

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Hm. Well, you won't be as lucky. The only victors to ever be related have been from Career districts."

Another shrug. She continued to stare straight ahead, obviously trying to ignore the Career beside her. A smart move, Justus decided, but unfortunately boring. The woman, who was about his age give or take five years, was quiet and unremarkable. She was of average height and fairly slim, with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair that reached her shoulders. She may have been the mother of a victor, which was sure to make her a favorite with Capitolites, but as far as Justus could tell, that's all she had going for her. She would likely be forgotten in a year or two, whereas Justus planned on being remembered for decades. Giving a small shrug, he threw a few more knives before slashing a couple of dummies apart. He glanced back at the woman from Seven periodically to see if she was watching, only to find her trying to stay focused on her own dummy. Eventually, he looked behind him to find the station abandoned, the woman having moved on elsewhere. Justus decided to continue on as well. If he didn't have an audience, there was no point in sticking around.

The man from Nine was swinging a sword at the torso of a dummy, so Justus decided to join him. He was a pathetic looking man, standing at a below average height for a male and clearly malnourished. His shaggy black hair looked as though it hadn't been cut in months. Justus hadn't been paying all that much attention, but he did notice this man had been quite the loner during training. He didn't even notice Justus as he approached.

"Move over, Nine. I'm joining you."

The man was so startled, his slashed his sword downward from the torso where he had originally meant it to be, to a place that could do even more damage. His dark brown eyes were wide in shock.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine," muttered the man. He looked anything but fine, more like a rabbit that had been trapped in a cage without easy means of escape.

"Want to see something that will blow your mind?"

The man didn't answer, as Justus expected he wouldn't, and instead stared at the blade in his hand. Justus picked up a sword and charged at the dummies, decapitating a row of them one by one in a single strike. Then, he stabbed a few in the stomach, just for fun. Behind him, the man from Nine was watching his every mood, his light brown complexion paling slightly. His own sword hung limply in his hand, pointed towards the ground.

Justus grinned at him. "There. Easy."

"I'm just going to… I'm done here," the man stammered. He put his sword away quicker than Justus had ever seen and hurried away at a near sprint.

Justus chuckled to himself. It really didn't take much for some people, did it? That man was probably lucky he wasn't born in Two. He'd definitely would have had the shit beaten out of him dozens of times if he had.

After taking a few more swings at the dummies for anyone nearby who might have been watching, Justus put his own sword away and searched for his next victim. He spotted the girl from Twelve, the youngest tribute in the Games, near the fire-building station, a skill she clearly had already mastered judging from the size of the flames she was currently tending to. From what he remembered seeing about her, she was a feisty girl, one who was quick to anger much like Justus was. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't bother with a young, skinny woman from District Twelve of all places, but in all honesty, he was bored. So why not mess with her?

"Some fire you have going there, Twelve."

She looked up and glared at him, or at least, she did out of one eye. The other was a pure, milky white that she undoubtedly couldn't glare out of even if she wanted to. "My name isn't Twelve, asshole. It's Lucy."

Lucy. Such a fragile sounding name for such a spunky girl. "Okay, calm down, Dollface."

Lucy let out a cold, bitter laugh. "You're joking, right? That's the insult you go with?"

"Would you prefer a different one?"

"I would prefer you don't bring attention to my face at all," she snapped, standing up and striding towards him until their faces were about two feet from one another. "Yes, I know it's like this. Ew, look at those burns, they're so gross! I _know_ , and unless you're fucking blind, you know too."

"Aw, poor wittle Lucy got burned in a fire. Let me guess, did that fire make you an orphan too?"

Before Justus could realize what was coming, Lucy's fist collided with his gut, much harder than he would have expected. Because he was caught off caught and partly due to his bad leg, Justus stumbled back into the metal rack of wood, sending it to the ground with a clang.

"You little bitch!" he managed to shout between gasps for air, having had the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He moved to punch back, but already the pair had already attracted the attention of the majority of the room and trainers had surrounded them, moving in to pull Justus and Lucy away from one another.

"You don't know a fucking thing about me," Lucy screeched. "Any of you! So don't act like you do!"

"You think you're brave, don't you?" Justus snapped. "Pulling off a stunt like that? Well, you'd better hope I don't run into the arena."

"On the contrary," Lucy said, her voice strangely calm considering the explosion she just gave off, "I hope you do."

There was no doubt about it. Lucy was going to pay in the arena. No one humiliated Justus Fiore and got away with it.

* * *

 **Maddox Hazeldine, District Six Male, 39**

Time was almost up, and Maddox still wasn't sure if he was ready. Like most things in his life, Maddox had tried to go about training in a logical way. He had stuck mostly to survival stations, things that would keep him alive and strong enough to fight if he was forced to. He spent some time with a few weapons, but they weren't his main priority. Besides, he had a fairly good idea on what his weapon of choice would be.

Maddox was a railroad construction worker, as were his parents and grandparents. It was a well-paying job, and Maddox had been able to get an education because of it. He and his husband, Warren - who worked in the same profession - planned to send their children, fifteen-year-old Alasdair and eleven-year-old Giselle, to the small technical college Six had to offer. They would never live among the poorest in Six, where crime was high and drugs and alcohol easily accessible. Contrary to popular belief, not all of District Six was dangerous and falling apart. Just like many other districts, it was just the poorest areas that one had to be wary of. Maddox never wanted to find his family in such a situation, but even if he died, he was certain they would be okay.

There was only a few hours left before the tributes would be forced into the waiting room to wait their turns for private sessions, so Maddox had to make the most of it. From the time he had woken up, he had been running through his plans on what to show the Gamemakers in his head. He would use hammer, a weapon he was familiar with on a smaller scale. Maddox used a hammer every day in his work, and while hitting nails on the head was much different than hitting another human being hard enough to knock them out, at least Maddox felt at ease with a hammer in his hand and could maneuver it well without missing his mark or injuring himself. However, he knew that alone wasn't enough to earn him very high of a score, nor would it keep him alive in the elements, so he also planned on showing the Gamemakers some survival skills as well, such as fire-starting or snare-making. Hopefully, a combination of those things would allow him to get at least a middle-ranged score.

Maddox decided that it would probably be best to brush up on his trap building skills, so he could have something that could leave at least a slight impression on the Gamemakers. Seamon, the man from Five, was already there, but Maddox didn't mind. Seamon seemed quiet and aloof, and even if he didn't want to talk, he would be fine company.

"Hello," said Maddox as he joined the other man. Seamon didn't even look up. He was already fairly far along on his snare and seemed to be focusing intently on it. Still, there was no harm in trying to initiate conversation. "That's a nice trap you've got there."

Again, Maddox received no response. He briefly wondered if the man was deaf, but pushed the thought away quickly when he remembered seeing Seamon's district partner, Varia, say something to him, to which he had given a brief nod. Maddox decided to try one more time. "I'm Maddox Hazeldine, from District Six. You're Seamon, correct?"

Finally Seamon met his eyes, if only for a moment, before nodding. The nod was so subtle, that Maddox would have missed it if he blinked. Maddox assumed that mean Seamon had no interest in being friendly, or even allies, with anyone, which was a shame. Maddox had been keeping an eye on Seamon, along with a few others, looking for tributes who seemed smart and logical in their choices of stations, which would indicate a logical ally in the arena. Seamon had been one who had held his attention, but Maddox knew discussing the possibility of an alliance would be pointless if the other man wasn't even willing to have a basic conversation with him. Maddox wasn't bothered though, as he didn't see having allies as a strong necessity. Many tributes won without having a single ally the entire Games, and so could he. If he did have allies, he wouldn't want more than one, maybe two, anyway. Instead, Maddox was content with working in silence. If he were Seamon, he would have made an effort to be friendly, hoping to build at least friendly acquaintanceships. Maddox was never a man to judge though, so he left Seamon to his own devices. Seamon likely had his own strategy and reasoning, and Maddox respected that.

Eventually, Seamon moved on to another station, leaving Maddox with his own trap. He wasn't alone for long, though. Less than five minutes had passed before he sensed the presence of another tribute hovering behind him. Maddox looked over his shoulder to see the pale figure of Dresden of District Eight, the man's sunken blue eyes studying him with a morose, hopeless expression. Maddox offered him a kind smile. "Hi there."

Dresden nodded. "Hey. District Six is it? I don't pay attention to names."

"Yeah, I'm from Six. My name is Maddox. You're Dresden?"

Dresden sighed. "The one and only from the wonderful, smog-filled District Eight."

"Smog-filled… that sounds pleasant. Nice to meet you, though."

Dresden laughed, a humorless, bitter sound. "We're going into the Hunger Games. You don't mean that."

Maddox shrugged. "Okay, touché… but under other circumstances, it would be nice to meet you."

Dresden only grunted and sat down. Maddox turned part of his focus back to his trap.

"How many kids have you got?" asks Dresden. "Apparently, I have one. As far as I know of, at least. I guess I could have more."

Maddox ignored the "apparently" in Dresden's statement. "I have two, a son and a daughter. Both were adopted after my husband, Warren, and I were married."

"You have a husband? I had a boyfriend once."

"Once? What happened?"

"He's dead," Dresden replied, his voice cold. Maddox frowned, but dropped the subject. It was not his place to pry.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I don't need your fake sympathy," Dresden said bitterly. "Besides, it was over twenty years ago. I don't even remember his face."

Maddox didn't know how to respond, so the two men continued their work in silence. Well, Maddox did. Dresden simply fiddled with the materials without doing much of anything. Finally, the man from Eight stood. "Well, I'm going to keep wandering around aimlessly."

Maddox nodded and watched Dresden's retreating back before adding the finishing touches to his own trap. After he was done, he considered moving to the fire station, but changed his mind when he noticed a confrontation between the young woman from Twelve, Lucy, and the man from Two, Justus. There was no point in joining that mess. No, it was better to stay where he was for now, at least until this incident blow over. The lunch bell would ring in less than an hour, anyway, and Maddox knew cramming in a bunch of training last minute would do little to improve his performance. However, he genuinely thought he had balanced his time wisely, and had hope that he'd do decently in front of the Gamemakers. If he didn't… well, he could play up being the underdog. No matter what happened this afternoon, Maddox would hold himself together and adapt. He would look logically at his score, and make it work to his advantage no matter what it was.

* * *

 **Anita Lang, District Eight Female, 37**

Life was cruel.

Yes, God existed. Christianity may have shrunk from the levels it was at before the Dark Days, but Anita's faith has always remained strong, as was her parents before her, grandparents, and as many generations back as far back in her family as anyone could remember. However, while God existed and He was good, He also gave punishment where punishment was due. The districts served the Capitol because they must have done something to make God mad. Yet, Anita didn't do anything wrong. She raised her children to have only the best of morals. Still, despite the bleak situation, Anita refused to lose her faith in God. She firmly believed everything He did was for a reason. After all, God helped those who helped themselves.

As far as training went, Anita had done as much as she could for herself. She had tried a little bit of as much as she could in an attempt to be well-rounded, although she knew she couldn't possibly fit everything into the two and a half days of training she was allowed. Anita had even done something she thought she'd never do; she held a weapon in her hand with the intent of learning how to disobey God's will and kill another human being. Like most tributes here, Anita didn't want to kill, but she would do anything to return to her family. Hopefully, God would understand. Still, the thought shook her to the core, but she knew she'd be able to kill if she had to. If she was ever going to see her family again, she would have to take at least one life. Tributes didn't become victors without killing. Even Georgie Moore, Anita's motherly, sensitive mentor and the now seventy-eight-year-old victor of the Thirty-Seventh Hunger Games, had killed another tribute in her Games.

Although she was nearly eighty years old, Anita had been taking full advantage of her mentor, asking her questions at every opportunity. Georgie wasn't a perfect mentor, since she was known to have emotional breakdowns ever since losing her own mentor, Woof, and her first victor, Cecelia, in the last Quarter Quell. At the same time, though, she was kind-hearted and did her best to help Anita, as she was determined to bring home another victor. She and Kente Conroy, the victor of the Eightieth Games, were District Eight's only surviving victors, and the district was long overdue. Hopefully, Anita would be their next victor.

Georgie had recommended that Anita practiced whatever she planned to show the Gamemakers, but do so without drawing attention to herself. Therefore, she had spent much of the morning at the knives and daggers station, trying to familiarize herself with the feel of a blade in her hand as she quietly worked with a trainer on reviewing both defensive and offensive moves. When she felt she had soaked in enough information, Anita decided it would be wise to spend the last hour or so of training at a survival station. She decided to hit the edible berries station, knowing that if she couldn't pick up a backpack stocked with food or earn a sponsor gift, she would have to find food in the arena, whether it be through hunting or gathering. Either way, it would be best to increase her chances of finding a source of nourishment in the arena and avoid starving to death. In an urban district like Eight, Anita had very little current plant knowledge, so she might as well learn as much as she could now.

After about fifteen minutes on her own, Anita was joined by the woman from Nine. Anita couldn't be sure how old the other woman was, but she guessed she was younger than she looked. Likely one of the oldest women in the Quell, she had long, thin, fiery red hair that flowed down to just below her elbows and had just begun to go gray. She was definitely malnourished, and wrinkles littered her skin. She smiled at Anita, her green eyes kind.

"Hello, I'm Saffron. I don't think we've met."

Anita nodded out of politeness. "Anita."

"From District Eight, I see. Nine's neighbors to the south."

Anita gave another nod. She didn't want to be rude, but during the entirety of training, she didn't intentionally talk to anyone. She trained alone, going wherever the Careers and her sketchy district partner, Dresden, weren't. She didn't want to make friends, not here at least. The arena was not the place to be friendly, especially when anyone could turn on anyone. Even if someone remained loyal, surviving to the final two with the person one had grown to consider a friend was only a recipe for disaster. For this reason, Anita wasn't even considering allies. Forget about friends. Yet, there was a difference between making friends and being rude, and Anita had no interest in doing either.

"I noticed you've been alone most of training, much like myself," said Saffron.

"I want to be."

"I'm guessing that means you don't want allies?" Anita shook her head, and Saffron gave a little sigh. "I've been looking for allies, but I haven't managed to make one work. I guess I'll be on my own in the arena."

"Maybe that will work out better for you."

Saffron shrugged. "Maybe. It would be nice to have one, though."

Anita didn't reply. After a few minutes, the pair was joined by the woman from Five, who introduced herself as Varia. After stating her name, Anita let Saffron and Varia do the talking. She still decided to listen, however, perhaps against her better judgement. According to Varia, she had already allied with the women from Three and Six, but they had split up that morning to cover as many stations as possible. From the conversation, Anita learned that both Varia and Saffron were married to loving, supportive husbands. They both had less children back home than Anita did, with Saffron having three and Varia having two. Valerie and Emilia. Farra, Cameron, and Zea. These were real women, with real families and real lives far away, just like Anita. That is what made the Quell so much harder. If Anita was to succeed in seeing her family again, she would have to deprive other mothers and fathers of the same privilege.

Eventually, the bell rang for lunch, and that was it. The last morning of training, the last chance anyone would have to improve their skills, was over. Anita wasn't sure if her training would be enough, but it would have to be. As lunch was finishing up, the tributes were to be called back into the training room individually to be assigned a score that could do anything from putting a target on their back to gaining them allies. Anita was one of the first to enter the dining room, and after filling her plate, she took a seat at the table she had eaten at for the past two days. When she was done picking at her meal, an Avox carried the dishes away. Anita politely nodded to her in gratitude, then sat in silence, thinking about her family, God, and the days ahead. She bowed her head and prayed silently.

Anita's attention was caught by the second ringing of the lunch bell. The Head Trainer stood in the middle of the training room, waiting until all the tributes eyes were upon him. "Attention tributes, we will now begin the private training sessions. We will be calling you into the training room one by one in order of District to present your chosen skills. We will start with Valor Acosta, District One."

The lean, yet muscular man from One stood from where he sat with the other Careers, carrying his head high in pride before following the Head Trainer back into the training room. The other tributes waited awkwardly, with only a select few attempting to make small talk with one another. With fifteen tributes in line before her, Anita was in for a nearly four hour wait. This would take a while.

 _Lord, help me today. I've done all I can for now. Now I need your guidance. Tonight is in your hands. I have faith in you, Lord. Amen._

Hopefully, her prayers would be answered.

 **Author's Note: We have reached the end of training! I know it's** _ **much**_ **later than I said, but Thanksgiving break was busier than expected, and then finals hit hard. As for these past couple of weeks, I have no idea what happened there... I should just stop predicting next updates, shouldn't I? Oh well. I hope to have at least one more chapter out before classes start again January 9th, but I can't promise anything. You've seen how well I am able to meet my goals. Also, sorry if some of the POVs seem short this time. I just wanted to have this chapter out because it has been too long.**

 **Next up, of course, is private sessions. I'm only going to do three POVs of those, but the chapter after that will be an interlude chapter, part of which will be the Gamemakers discussing the sessions. Each tribute will be discussed briefly to give you a basic idea of what everyone showed the Gamemakers. Just five more chapters until the Games! I hope you're getting excited like I am!**


	15. Chapter 13: Private Sessions

**Chapter 13: Private Sessions**

 **Volustre Eckhart, District Three Female, 29**

"Niels Bundar," the robotic, monotone voice called over the loudspeakers. The man stood up, looking only slightly nervous. His apparent allies, the women from Ten and Eleven, offered him smiles and words of encouragement before he disappeared back through the doors of the training room. Tre had been sitting around for an hour, waiting one by one as other tributes were called to show their skills. Now, there was only fifteen minutes to go.

"You're next. Are you ready?" Varia whispered, leaning across the table.

Tre sighed deeply. "I think so. I mean, I have to be, don't I?"

"You'll do fine," said Calissa. "We've all been working so hard. I know we'll be okay."

Tre nodded. She didn't speak to either of her allies, trying to gather and hold her focus. Tre closed her eyes and imagined the face of her seven-year-old daughter in her mind. Jennis's hair was a very dark brown, nearly black, just a shade lighter than her mother's, but she inherited her father's blue eyes. Blue eyes were a rarity in District Three, which made Tre love them even more. Like most of the tributes here, Tre's daughter was her motivation to fight. Jen already had lost her father, Jem. Tre could let her lose her mother, too. For now, though, Tre knew Jen was in good hands. She was being taken care of by Tre's sister, Rhea, who had lived with them ever since Jem disappeared. Tre was younger than her sister and brother by twelve and eighteen years respectively, and since their parents died when she was just a toddler, she had been raised by them for most of her life. As a result, Tre knew how motherly Rhea could be. Still, despite what an outstanding sister, aunt, and mother-figure Rhea was, Tre couldn't bare the thought of being out of her daughter's life. Winning the Games was so important, and earning a respectable score was a major step in the process.

"Volustre Ekhart."

Tre's head snapped up, as she had become lost in her thoughts and hadn't been paying attention to the time. Varia squeezed her hand gently. "Good luck in there."

Calissa offered her a smile, nodding in agreement. Tre smiled back and nodded her thanks. Then, taking a deep breath. She stepped through the large metal doors.

The gymnasium looked much the same, complete with the same trainers that had been there since training began. Each station was in the same location as that morning, and the room looked tidy, as though the five tributes who had gone before her had never been inside at all. The only visible difference was the line of Gamemakers sitting in the balcony above, drinking wine and looking down at her expectantly, as if she were a seal in a zoo, expected to perform an array of tricks. She nodded politely to them, before first running to the berries station. Tre had her strategy planned out ahead of time; she just hoped she'd have enough time to carry it out. Working through the berries as quickly as she could, Tre earned a score of eighty-eight percent. It wasn't as high as she would have liked, but she didn't have time to try again. Eighty-eight would just have to be good enough.

Next, Tre ran to the hammers. She used a hammer frequently in her job as an ironworker at her family's smithy. She knew it was far from being a flawless weapon, but it was what she was used to. Tre picked a hammer and swung at the dummies, denting each one. Hopefully, the impact could be strong enough to break an attacker's bones. She capped off the performance with a throw of the hammer, which sailed straight into the dummy's head. As part of an accurate simulation, the dummy crumpled to the ground.

Tre looked up at the Gamemakers. Some looked bored, while others looked on with interest, one of which was Head Gamemaker Cornelius Marquis. If Tre could impress them, surely it was a good sign. Still, most of the Gamemakers' faces were cold and unreadable, likely they were trying to show no emotion and even intimidate her. However, Tre wasn't finished yet. She still had one more trick up her sleeve, saving what she thought was her best skill for last. Giving herself a running start, Tre sped to the obstacle course. The course required speed, jumping, twisting, and a great amount of endurance. By weaving in, out, around, over, and under obstacles, Tre hoped the Gamemakers could see her potential to chase down competitors, as well as avoiding attack her. By the time Tre finished the course, she was breathing heavily, but still had just under a minute left on the clock. With nothing more she could do in such a short amount of time, Tre jogged to the front of the room and took a bow.

Cornelius stood up and offered Tre a surprisingly pleasant smile. "Thank you. You are dismissed."

Tre nodded, and strided out the door across the room from the one she had entered. She held her head high, just in case the Gamemakers were still judging her confidence. She was greeted in the hall by her escort, Candy, who was dressed as elegantly as usually, her short white dress and flowing white hair bringing out her swirling tattoos. Niels hung back, giving her a smile when she approached.

"Well, how did you do, dear?" Candy asked, her purple eyes bright with excitement.

"Well, I think. I'll tell you about it at dinner"

Candy patted Tre's shoulder. "Wonderful! I am so delighted to hear it!"

As the three of them walked to the elevator, Tre knew she should feel more relieved. Training was done, and there was nothing she could do to help her score or improve her skills now. She had done everything she could to prepare for the Games. Now it was time to move on to the stage that would perhaps lead to earning the most sponsors; the interviews. Now, more than ever, it was time to get serious.

* * *

 **Marin Zale, District Four Male, 20**

" _It's either the kid or me. Your choice."_

" _You can't live here forever, Marin! You need a job!"_

" _We'll make one more deal with you. Volunteer for the Games, or else you - and Apollo - will be out on the streets."_

" _Did you ever want to volunteer?"_

" _Before I became a father, yes, I did, but I didn't do this for me. I did it for my son. I can't keep failing him."_

Marin knew he had messed up. Not in keeping Apollo, but rather in his job as a father. Marin would neither regret his decision to raise his son, rather than sending him to the orphanage like Anat intended. He didn't even regret not being able to volunteer for the ninety-eighth Games like he had planned. What agitated Marin most was the fact that even twenty months after Apollo's birth, he still had no job.

He wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't made a stronger effort to find work. Maybe he had just been putting it off in favor of spending time with his little boy. Maybe he didn't really think his parents would follow through on their threat to kick him out if he didn't have a job by his twentieth birthday. They certainly would have if the announcement for the Quell hadn't come two months p, a mere month before Marin's birthday and deadline. Marin wasn't a lazy man; he wanted to set a good example for Apollo and be able to provide for him without having to rely on his parents. He had briefly looked around, but hadn't taken the search seriously until it was too late. The date had just sort of snuck up on him. Marin knew it was no excuse, and he felt like he had failed Apollo. Now, the only way his son would ever be able to grow up knowing his father was if Marin won the Games. Then they could live happily together, away from Marin's controlling parents. That was the hard, unpredictable path, though. If only Marin had just manned up and found work immediately, he wouldn't be in this mess. How could he have been so very, very stupid?

Marin sighed, burying his face in his hands. His district partner and only ally, Meridian, glanced at him with concern, but he ignored her. He didn't want to talk to her about his problems. That would suggest they were friends, which Marin knew would be dangerous going into the Games, and would only make losing her when the time came - or even worse, killing her himself - even harder to bare. So he kept his thoughts to himself. Maybe, he thought, that was the adult thing to do.

Ever since Anat told him she was pregnant, Marin knew becoming a father would force him to grow up sooner than any other boy his age. He just didn't realize how quickly adulthood would come. Before Apollo's birth, Marin's life was pretty dang sweet, if he said so himself. He had to admit, he was a showoff and the star of training. He was happiest when he was around others and was popular amongst his peers. Everyone knew Marin Zale was destined to volunteer. In his decision to keep Apollo, Marin gave his old life up and started a new one. Sometimes, he wondering if in addition to growing up, he had become a totally different person, until he remembered that deep down, he was still the same fun-loving jokester he always had been. That side of him just stayed hidden, a respectful, reserved man taking its place. Yet, he was still him. Still Marin.

Eighteen-year-old, teenage boy Marin would have likely been a member of the Career alliance. Perhaps he may have even led it. Twenty-year-old father Marin decided it was too risky. Marin didn't want to be a heartless killer. He just wanted a better life for his son. Was not joining the careers a mistake? Maybe, but Marin didn't think so. He had a strong ally in Meridian, and even though she had never trained, he believed they could make it far. He had to. He couldn't stand the thought of Apollo forgetting him, and calling not his father, but grandfather "Dad".

"Marin Zale."

Marin stood slowly as his name was announced. Meridian gave him a grin and a thumbs up, and after giving her a small smile back, Marin entered the training room. Volustre, the tribute before him, was gone of course, leaving nothing but Marin, the stations, and the menacing Gamemakers in the balcony.

Without looking at the Gamemakers, Marin made his way towards the rack of bows. Not many tributes from Four used a bow and arrows as their weapon of choice, but for reasons unknown to Marin, the bow had called to him ever since he had begun training so many years ago. He felt at ease with it, and had been itching to pick up the bows in this training center ever since arriving in the Capitol. Choosing a strong-looking bow and a handful of arrows before striding to the moving targets. As the targets came to live, Marin shot one arrow after another, running and jumping as he did so. More often than not, the arrow hit the exact mark he intended. He even hit a target that attempted to hide behind what Marin assumed the simulation meant to be a tree.

When his arrows were gone, Marin ran to the knives station, his second weapon of choice. He selected a fistful before returning to the targets. First, Marin used the knives much like he did the bow, standing at a distance and relying on agility, accuracy, and speed to hit his targets. He was successful, but not as much so as with the bow. Finally, with the remaining knives, Marin charged towards the targets and began to fight in melee style, using his agility and athleticism to stab the targets in the most efficient and deadly areas. When his time ran out, he went to the Gamemakers and took a bow.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," Cornelius Marquis replied. "You are dismissed."

Marin nodded again and left the room. Looking around the hallway, he found Deimos waiting for him. "How did you do? I sure hope you did well. That would be embarrassing for a volunteer such as yourself to do poorly."

Marin recognized that Deimos was just teasing, so he humored him with a laugh. "I sure do hope so."

And he did, for both his and Apollo's sakes. He felt confident, and hopefully that confidence was not misplaced.

* * *

 **Chase Aldreon, District Seven Male, 38**

Almost three hours had passed, and Calissa from District Six was just getting her turn to shine _now_. Not for the first time, Chase really pitied District Twelve. Luckily, being from District Seven, he was next. Not that he was ready. Chase didn't feel even the slightest bit ready. Near the start of the sessions, he made small talk with Victor, his ally, but his heart was only half in the conversation. Mostly, Chase was talking just to distract himself. Without distraction, Chase worried. When Chase worried, he tended to ramble on and on, and now was not the time to ramble. He suspected Victor wouldn't mind, as the other man talked quite a bit himself. Still, he didn't know how the potential sponsors would react to such ramblings. He had an appearance to up, after all. Humor could hide anything.

Now, though, they mostly sat in silence. Most of the room was quiet, in fact. Only a few tributes whispered amongst themselves. Chase just stuck to his thoughts. To be completely honest with himself, he had little idea what he wanted to show the Gamemakers. Worse yet, he had less than fifteen minutes to figure it out. Chase couldn't help but wonder what his boyfriend, Connor, would do if he were in the same situation.

 _Probably the same thing you'd do, dork_ , Connor's voice said in his mind.

 _Way to be a great help, Connor. What would I do without you?_

Chase honestly had no idea where he'd be without Connor. They had been together for not even a decade, but Connor now felt like such a constant part of his and his son, Lance's, lives, that Chase knew he was in deep. As sappy as it sounded, Chase loved every bit of Connor, from their shared sense of humor to the make up Connor loved to wear. In fact, the make up made him look even hotter than he was already. Best of all, Connor accepted eighteen-year-old Lance as his own and loved him like a son, even though Chase wasn't even sure he was the one responsible for bringing such an incredible, responsible young man into the world in the first place. Connor taught Chase how to love someone romantically again, and helped him get over his ex-fiancee, Molly, once and for all after she broke his heart. Man, did he miss Connor. Lance too, of course. Unfortunately, all of the other people in this room and those that had already left, would have to die for Chase to ever see them again, a thought that terrified him. He didn't know if he'd have the emotional strength for what needed to be done.

"Chase Aldreon."

"Oh, that's me! Do I win a prize?"

Chase knew his attempt at humor was weak, but he still didn't expect the confused, or even cold stares he received from the other tributes.

"I'm afraid not," Victor said. "Although, I wish you luck."

"Thanks, Victor. You as well. Well then, here goes nothing."

Taken a deep breath, Chase took a step through the training room doors. He glanced upwards, and tried his best to hide how intimidated he felt by the Gamemakers glowering down at him. Hoping to seem at least somewhat confident, Chase jogged to the middle of the room and waved furiously at the Gamemakers.

"Hello! It's lovely day, isn't it?" Unsurprisingly, Chase was greeted with silence. "Okay then, I think I should start, shouldn't I?"

Continuing his jog, Chase made his way to the traps station, something he had spent a lot of time with in training. As he made his traps, Chase rambled, not liking the tense silence of the room. He didn't know if talking would help his score, but it certainly couldn't harm him… right? He sure hoped not.

"So… traps. Right. Well, they're very usual tools. You can hurt with them, and catch all sorts of animals like rabbits or squirrels or deer. Actually, maybe not deer; those might be too big. Anyway, hunting is good in the arena because it provides a food source, which prevents starvation. It's advisable to avoid starvation because the process eventually ends with death, and death is undesirable in the Hunger Games. So… yeah. Food is good.

"Also, traps can capture other tributes but that's a bit more dangerous since humans bigger and smarter than most animals and you'd have to worry about them killing you before you have a chance to kill them. Catching other tributes also requires a weapon, so I'd probably use a spear or a knife to finish them in. Hopefully, the odds would be in my favor on that one. I'm sorry that I'm stealing your slogan, by the way."

After Chase had finished two traps, he realized he had spent too much time at one station, and decided to quickly move on to another. He chose the nearby fire-starting station, not wanting to waste time bolting across the room to a station he likely knew little about. Chase picked up a piece of flint, some straw, and some kindling before getting to work.

"So why did the bicycle fall over?" Chase asked. No one answered, so he continued. "It was too tired."

Even though no one laughed, nor did the more logical part of him expect them to, Chase decided to carry on with the jokes. "What did the evil duck say to the bartender? Put it on my bill! What do you call an alligator in a vest? An in-vest-igator! Not funny? Okay, how about… What kind of tea is hard to swallow? Reality. Come on! You have to laugh, just once!"

Somehow, telling jokes to the stony-faced Gamemakers washed Chase's worries away, and before long he had a full fire going. At that point, Chase took a peek at the clock and realized he had less than two minutes left in his session. Unsure what else to do, Chase stood up… and ran. He wasn't sure why or where he was going, but he ran anyway. He ran around the stations, jumping and turning sharply whenever he felt like doing so. Maybe he was showing the Gamemakers his speed and agility. He certainly didn't know. Finally, Chase sprinted to the door and stopped just short of it, turning to face the Gamemakers.

"Goodbye! It was great to spend time with you, but I'm afraid I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, Chase left the training gymnasium for the final time. His escort, Sin, was already in the hall, looking at him expectantly.

"Well, that wasn't a total disaster," Chase said. "I hope."

As long as the Gamemakers had a sense of humor, it wouldn't be.

* * *

 **Author's Note: An update that (almost) met my goal for completion date? Wow! I'm surprised! This chapter was fun and easy to write, maybe because I'm getting excited for the Games. Sorry if it was short… there is only so much to talk about in Private Sessions.**

 **It would be fun to post the bloodbath chapter on this story's first anniversary, but at this rate, I don't know if that's going to happen. But regardless, the Games are coming soon! I hope you all are having a great 2017 (or, for those of you reading this in the future, a great whatever year you're in) so far! :)**


	16. Chapter 14:Thoughts from Gamemaker Noble

**Chapter 14: Gamemaker Interlude**

 **Gamemaker Justinian Noble, 31, Mutation Specialist**

Justinian Noble was quite proud of the way he could hold his liquor. Glancing around at his fellow Gamemakers, he could probably count the number of them on one hand that weren't at least a slight bit tipsy. Head Gamemaker Cornelius Marquis was one of the very few that was not, having only one alcoholic drink in the six hours the Gamemakers had been watching the tributes perform boring, and in some cases repetitive, skills. They claimed they wanted to stay professional and do their job to the best of their ability, but Justinian knew there was likely more to it than that. It was pathetic, really, as was most of their behavior. Cornelius may have been a dreadfully boring person, but at least they were fun to mock.

As for Justinian, he had never been one to shy away from a good drink. He simply had spent much of his teenage years discovering his limits and learning how to push those limits to their maximum. He also knew how to properly pace himself, so he found himself to be sober enough to not make himself a fool. Justinian was many things, but a fool was not one of them.

After the… impactful performance of District Twelve's Luciel Furorum, the Gamemakers sat in stunned silence for about a minute as trainers and avoxes rushed around on the training floor below, trying to extinguish the flames that the eighteen-year-old girl had purposely let grow out of control. When it was clear the building was not about to be burned down, Cornelius announced a ten minute recess before gathering in the meeting room discussion of scores would commence.

While some of his co-workers stumbled off to use the facilities or stretch their legs, Justinian headed straight to the meeting room. Once there, he began observing the remaining Gamemakers for entertainment purposes. Cornelius occasionally glanced in his direction, offering a shy smile. Just as he always did, Justinian returned the smile with a grin of his own and a wink. Cornelius would then blush and avert their eyes, their rosy cheeks clashing horribly with their periwinkle hair.

Justinian hid his smirk. Cornelius's little crush on him was so painfully obvious, yet somehow they seemed to think no one was aware of it, least of all Justinian himself. What was even more hilarious, was the fact that Cornelius was completely oblivious to the fact that Justinian was leading them on a wild chase that would never end in a happy ending, at least not for Cornelius. Justinian was a heterosexual male and not attracted to men or nonbinary individuals whatsoever. Even if he were, there was no way in hell he'd ever fall in love with, or even fuck, such a meek excuse for a human being.

Justinian would never understand why Celestia kept Cornelius in the position of Head Gamemaker, when he was a better, more capable choice. He was cunning and charismatic, and fed Cornelius most of his ideas anyway. Perhaps it was because she knew Cornelius was easy to control, while Justinian took orders from no one. Surely she knew who was really in charge here. Justinian had Cornelius wrapped around his finger, with Cornelius willing to satisfy his every wish.

Slowly, the other Gamemakers began to file back into the balcony. Once they all had arrived, Cornelius stood, awkwardly clanking his spoon against his half-full glass of water. As the Gamemakers turned their attention towards him, he quietly cleared his throat.

"Alright, so… thank you for coming back and not going home like I'm sure many of you wanted to do. We still have a lot to do tonight. Now I trust most of you remember the scoring process, but in case you are new with us this year or have forgotten, I will go over it again. The tributes will be scored on a scale based on one to twelves. Ones are reserved for tributes who have refused to show us anything and twelves are extremely rare, only given twice in the past ninety-nine games, both in the last quell. So, actually, don't give twelves. Not even to be funny. Please. Elevens should also be given sparingly, as we never have more than one a year, if that. Elevens are reserved for those tributes who wow us, or who view as… dangerous, you might say. They are tributes you wouldn't want in the arena for long.

"Now, we will be discussing the tributes in the order they presented their skills. If you have an opinion you feel the urge to do so, please share. We are a democracy here. Once discussion has ended for that particular tribute, if you could write down your suggested score on the form, that would be great. Afterwards, I will average the scores and present them to President Snow for approval before delivering them to Miss Silver, who will announce them to the nation tonight in just under two hours, so I'd appreciate if we work quickly. I hope that's alright. Any questions?"

No one spoke, so Cornelius turned on the projector, which flashed video clip of Valor Acosta from District One onto the wall. Justinian skimmed the notes he had taken on each tribute. Valor was a bit shorter than average, but what he lacked in height, he had in muscle. The middle-aged man began his session throwing spears with slightly surprising accuracy considering the fact that he was twenty years older than the ordinary District One male. When he was done, he called to one of the trainers, inviting him to partake in hand-to-hand combat. Justinian had to admit that he was impressed. He wasn't impressed to the level of an eleven, but the other tributes would have some stiff competition.

Next, a clip of District One's Ivory Spinel appeared on the wall. At nineteen-year-old, she was the second-youngest tribute, which was unusual for a Career tribute. Ivory had begun with survival stations, which was another surprise for a tribute from the dedicated District One. Just as Justinian was sure she was going to end up a major disappointment, she darted over to the whip station, and began to rapidly disarm dummies before running them through with a dagger. She wasn't the best tribute he had seen that night, but by the end of her session, Ivory had turned out to be more Career-like than Justinian originally thought.

The third tribute was a man Justinian had been keeping a close eye on; Justus Fiore of District Two. He had Valor's muscles, but probably towered over him by at least a head. However, he did have a slight limp, something that Justinian may not have noticed if he hadn't been paying close attention. From the moment he entered, Justus made his presence known by bellowing his name and district with pride. He clearly was trying to show off as he leapt from dummy to dummy, decapitating them or cutting them clean through the midsection with his sword and knives. His speed and power had held the Gamemakers' interests, and Justinian was sure he'd prove himself to be lethal in the arena. If Justinian could bet, he would put his money on Justus making the most kills. He wasn't sure if he had the key components of a victor, but Justus would put on a good show for sure. As Justinian listened to his fellow Gamemakers' discussion, he concluded that the room had reached a general consensus of the same idea.

Next up was Arista, the first reaped tribute from Two since Enobaria Sutherland was reaped for the third Quarter Quell. Justinian had only been six years old when all the victors participating in the quell, save for Finnick, were lost, but he could remember that Enobaria was a tough tribute to match. He doubted Arista would have what it took to reach her level. She wasn't the strongest tribute physically, though she did possess some agility and skills with a chakram. Not many tributes used chakrams, so Justinian had to give her some points for originality. In addition, she had danced around the room, showing off her flexibility. Arista may not have been as good as Justus or Valor, but she still could prove to be a force. Justinian was curious to see what she would do.

After Arista, Niels Bundar of District Three entered the room. To Justinian, District Three always seemed like a disappointment after seeing four strong Career tributes in a row. As expected, Niels performance was slower paced than the four tributes who went before him. Niels spent his entire session at the trap station, efficiently weaving together a spear trap composed of vines and branches. Using a dummy, he then demonstrated how the trap would effectively ensnare another person. Due to the nature of this year's arena, Justinian reasoned that the skill wasn't totally useless. It still probably wasn't enough to help Niels earn a very strong score. Justinian was unimpressed, though it wasn't like he expected to be.

It seemed Niels district partner, Volustre, had more to offer, as she had added more variety to her session. She first had gone to the berry station, and at first Justinian thought he was in for another disappointment. Volustre surprised him however, when she jogged over to the hammers, putting dents into several of the dummies. Still, she wasn't done yet, and completed her session with a run of the obstacle course. Not bad, for a tribute from Three. Normally, they stuck to survival stations, rather than stations that required any sort of athletic ability like Volustre had just displayed. Perhaps this young mother stood a chance.

The next tribute, Marin Zale, looked like everything a Career should be. At twenty, he wasn't much older than the usual tribute from Four. He stood at around six feet tall, and had quite a bit of muscles on him. As expected, he had been a volunteer, though Justinian couldn't help but wonder why he had volunteered now, and not two years previous at the age of eighteen. The wait didn't seem to work against him though, as he had plenty to offer. Marin had begun with a bow and arrows, an odd weapon of choice for a tribute from the fishing districts, who usually used spears or tridents, or occasionally knives. After taking down a range of moving targets, Marin had eventually picked up a fistful of knives, and demonstrated a variety of knife skills, ranging from distance to melee. The kid definitely had some talent, along with a good amount of agility and athleticism. Justinian figured he'd do well and would likely be a favorite among Capitolites.

Although she made a good effort, Marin's district partner, Meridian Vale, hadn't stood out as much in Justinian's opinion. She had thrown knives for a few minutes, and while they all had hit the dummies, some hit in areas that would do little damage, rather than in the heart, throat, or eye. She then quickly spirited across the room to demonstrate her speed before scurrying up the climbing wall. Finally, she had attempted to start a fire, though doing so took some effort, and before her time ran out, she had only managed to get a tiny spark out of her kindling. She wasn't the best as far as career tributes went, but compared to many outer district tributes, she was definitely far above average.

After Meridian, Seamon Devair entered the room. In Justinian's opinion, District Five was a mixed bag. Their tributes could range anywhere from rivaling the Careers to being bloodbath fodder. As of now, Justinian had little clue where Seamon and Varia would fall, as they both gave fairly average performances, worthy of perhaps a five or a six. Like Niels, Seamon had also made a trap, though he also enhanced his performance by throwing a couple of knives, and doing moderately well for an outer district tribute.

Varia Staves, Seamon's district partner, had a similar approach, although she began with throwing a spear. The first throw went decently, hitting the dummy in the arm, but missing the target on the dummy's chest completely. The second throw ended with the spear sticking straight out of the dummy's heart, while the third sailed right past the dummy. Afterwards, Varia spent the rest of her session building a fire, doing considerably better than Meridian had before her.

District Six was rumored to be one people should keep an eye on, and Justinian decided that for the most part, the rumors weren't wrong. Calissa had started out slow, identifying edible plants. She had quickened her pace when she moved on to stabbing dummies in the most fatal, efficient areas as possible with a knife. She moved quickly and with ease proving she possessed both skills with survival and weapons. Maddox had also showed both skills, as he had used a hammer to bash in the heads of a few dummies before starting a fire and creating a snare.

After the halfway mark, Chase Aldreon of District Seven entered. By this time, most of the Gamemakers had become at least tipsy, if not full on drunk, but Justinian for one remembered the pair well enough. Chase was the more memorable of the two, because even though his skills of making traps, setting a fire, and running around was unremarkable, the fact that he told a bunch of lame jokes made him stay in Justinian's mind more. Unfortunately. Elizabeth Calico, mother of victor Justin Calico, had been slightly more impressive, demonstrating the basic use of a bow, along with some plant identification and camouflage. She wasn't worthy of a seven like her son had been two years before, but she wasn't the worst tribute he had seen.

District Eight had been another mixed bag. Anita Lang did decently. She had decided to fight a trainer with a small sword, and although the trainer won the fight, Anita lasted longer than Justinian thought a woman from Eight would be able to. She was tall for a woman, and slightly muscular, but she still surprised him. Dresden was less impressive, looking sickly as he threw some daggers lazily and mixed together a poison made from an assortment of berries before leaving the training room early.

Unfortunately, things did not seem to look up with the appearance of the tributes from Nine. Saffron had been only average. Like many several other tributes, she built a fire, as well as used the edible berries test, made a snare and sprinted a short distance. She had a good variety, which was something. She did better than her district partner, Zane, who had been incredibly boring. All he did was cover himself in paint, mud, and plants to camouflage himself. Harp, the Gamemaker sitting next to Justinian even fell asleep, and had been snoring softly by the time Justinian finally nudged his side to wake him up. Honestly though, Justinian didn't blame him.

District Ten, however had taken a turn for the better. In Justinian's opinion, it had been the strongest of all the outer districts. Hector had begun by using a hammer against the dummies. At the time, Justinian couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. A hammer was an unusually weapon choice, and yet in these private sessions, Hector had been the third tribute to select a hammer as their weapon of choice. How fascinating it would be to place one sledgehammer in the cornucopia and let the three tributes who favored it fight it out during the bloodbath. What made Hector stand out, though, was the amount of weight he could pick up, lift above his head, and throw across the room.

Lil Carey, Hector's district partner, also had a good amount of physical strength as she demonstrated at the weight-lifting station. She lifted weights larger than Justinian suspected Cornelius ever could. After quickly moving through the berry test, Lil threw a few spears, landing them close to places that would inflict a lot of damage, and even hitting the center of a dummy's forehead once and the heart another time. She was far from perfect, of course, but for an untrained tribute, she did fairly well. Justinian wasn't likely to forget about her soon.

Sadly, District Eleven couldn't have been more drastically different. For some ridiculous reason, Victor Mackall had decided using a variety of weapons would be a good idea. In his session, he used the most weapons Justinian had ever seen a tribute use at once, going for a bow, a spear, a knife, a long sword, and a blow gun, spending just mere minutes with each weapon. The trouble was, he had been terrible at all of them, only hitting the dummies a handful of times, and when he did, it was in the arms or legs. It appeared Victor had spread himself far too thin and had tried to do too much, instead of focusing on one weapon that he could have grasped well enough to get at least a five or six. Instead, Justinian doubted the man would get higher than a three.

Victor's district partner, Circe Banks, didn't do much better. She attempted the berry test, and scored a 98% in an extremely fast time of just under a minute. However, she spent the rest of her session tying knots. With no skills with weapons to speak of, Justinian knew she would likely only manage a three or four, if not lower.

Just as the majority of Gamemakers were past the point of being able to fully process the sessions, the second to last tribute, Joshua Yates of District Twelve shuffled into the room. He spent his entire session with a collection of poisonous plants, explaining how to concoct a variety of poisonous that would cause the victim to have a painful death, go insane, or die quickly. Though the topic was morbid, Joshua was quite knowledgeable about the plants, and if he had access to the right materials, he could be dangerous. However, he showed no other skills behind the plants.

Then, there had been Luciel Furorum, the one who had stunned them all. At first, her session seemed as though it would be just as boring as many before her as she began to build a fire. She let it grow bigger and bigger, causing Cornelius's eyes to grow with it as they became more and more anxious. Luciel set one of the stand-still dummies aflame before a trainer intervened and cut the session short. In the end, the Gamemakers, or those who were sober enough to remember her actions and discuss them could agree on one thing; Luciel was a force to be reckoned with.

Finally, discussion ended, and Justinian handed his form into Cornelius. Then, he made the journey home to his spacious penthouse, where he lived alone, not counting the occasional women he allowed into his bed. His work was from done, and he had a lot of ideas to shove into Cornelius's head. First though, he needed his beauty rest.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Orininally, I was going to have POVs from Celestia Snow and a mentor, but Justinian's POV was much longer than I thought it was going to be, and it's been so long, I decided 3000 words was good enough.**

 **I hope you all are satisfied with how I did the private sessions. Who do you think did the best? The worst?**


	17. Chapter 15: Score Reveals and Prep

**Chapter 15: Score Reveals and Interview Prep**

 **Hector Jackson, District Ten male, 35**

Abilene and Arlo were bickering again.

It wasn't a bad argument, but they were always at each other's throats. They clearly did not enjoy working with one another, but it wasn't like they had any other choice. The pair were District Ten's only living mentors, with sixty-four-year-old Abi winning the fifty-second Games, and Arlo joining her fifteen years after the third quarter quell took the lives of her former fellow mentors, Lanzo Desmin and Hillie Todd. They were stuck with each other until they got a third victor. Hopefully, Hector would be their man.

Hector found himself getting along well with Arlo. The younger man had a strong hatred of the Capitol, Careers, and the Games that Hector could relate to. Arlo was much more brash and vocal than Hector preferred to be himself, but whatever worked for him. As for Abi, she didn't speak with him much, instead focusing on Lil. However, this squabbling was a bit annoying. Lil seemed to be ignoring it, and Lysbeth had left the room to reapply make-up and redo her hair before the scores aired. Wanting some peace, Hector glanced at the clock, trying to decide if it was too early to turn on the hologram. To his relief, the broadcast was due to start in just under five minutes. He cleared his throat, causing the mentors and Lil to glance at him.

"Isn't it almost time for the score reveals?"

Abi shrugged. "I guess. If you want to hear Simone gush for five minutes before you hear anything good, go ahead."

Hector turned on the screen, while Arlo beckoned an Avox over, requesting a glass of wine. Lysbeth returned to the room and took her place in her unofficially assigned arm chair. On screen, Simone had just just appeared, wearing a sapphire blue dress the exact shade of her hair. Her normally down hair, which was also streaked with silver as a nod to her last name, was formed into a large bun on top of her head, and her natural brown skin was covered in only a little make-up. Currently, she seemed to be trying to guess who would be the highest scoring tribute.

"But of course, there is only one way to find out just how well everyone did, isn't there? Ladies and gentlemen, I will now reveal the training scores of the tributes of the One-hundredth Annual Hunger Games. First, we have Valor Acosta with a score of... ten!"

One by one, Simone listed off scores. Hector made sure to make a mental note of each.

Ivory Spinel with a score of nine.

Justus Fiore with a score of ten.

Arista Lazuli with a score of nine.

Niels Bundar with a score of four.

Volustre Eckhart with a score of seven.

Marin Zale with a score of ten.

Meridian Vale with a score of eight.

Seamon Devier with a score of five.

Varia Staves with a score of five.

Maddox Hazeldine with a score of six.

Calissa Peer with a score of six

Chase Aldreon with a score of four.

Elizabeth Calico with a score of five.

Dresden Lume with a score of four.

Anita Lang with a score of six.

Zane Oupfield with a score of three.

Saffron Jameson with a score of five.

Hector Jackson with a score of eight.

Arlo whooped. "That's the ticket!" he raised his hand for a high five, which Hector gave him with a grin. "Just watch out for the careers. Those motherfuckers will be on your back before you can say 'targeted'."

Abi rolled her eyes. "Honestly! Can you go five seconds without -" Her mouth snapped shut when she saw Lil's face flash onto the screen.

Lil Carey with a score of seven.

Abi beamed. "Great job, honey. A seven is right where you want to be."

Hector nodded. "Congrats.

Lil smiled slightly. "Thank you both. And congrats to you too, Hector, with that eight."

"Thanks," the man replied before turned his attention back to the screen for the last two tributes.

Victor Mackall with a score of two.

Circe Banks with a score of three.

Joshua Yates with a score of four.

Luciel Furorum with a score of six.

And that was it. Simone wished everyone a good night, and the programing changed into some Capitolite soap opera that Hector had no desire to watch. Clearly, Lysbeth couldn't care less either, as she shut off the screen as soon as the broadcast was over.

"I'm off to bed," said the escort. "Remember, our day starts at eight in the morning and goes until half past four, and you should have eaten breakfast before then. Goodnight."

Lysbeth retreated to her room, and Abi and Lil headed to a separate room, leaving Hector alone with his mentor. The two men sat in silence for a minute, before Arlo spoke. "We can discuss the scores if you really want, or I can leave you alone. It's completely up to you."

"Let's talk about scores," Hector said, figuring there would be no harm in it.

"Well, in my opinion, I'd say you're the best contender for victor of them all, but of course, I'm biased as fuck. I say that more often than not, unless my tribute is a total loser," Arlo chuckled. "Anyway, besides that, the six Careers are the only ones who scored higher or equal to you. Remember, although they think that makes them indestructible, it really doesn't. Getting cocky like that can be fatal. Even though I also scored an eight in training, not one minute did I think that I was guaranteed victory. You want it, you gotta fight for it."

Hector nodded. "I'm not going to count anyone out. Not even those who scored twos, threes, and fours."

"Exactly. Tributes have won with low scores before, sometimes through pure luck, or perhaps they were trying to seem weak. Who knows? Now, what was it your ally got?"

"A six," Hector replied, not able to help feeling proud in his choice of ally.

"Not bad. She must have something to offer."

"She does. She may be just eighteen, but I think we have a shot at this."

"Hm. Do you know what you're doing?"

Hector nodded. He sure hoped so, at least. After Lucy's confrontation with Justus, he couldn't be sure if he had chosen the most stable ally. Either way, he believed Lucy's assets would outweigh any flaws in the end.

"Good. Then I think it's time to hit the hay. We're talk interviews tomorrow. You'll be with me first, then work with Lysbeth in the afternoon."

"Alright. Good night, Arlo."

"Night."

With that, Hector headed to his room. He didn't want to sleep yet, as it wasn't even ten-thirty, and he had always been more of a night owl. Instead, he sat on his bed, his thoughts drifting to his boy, David. David was a good kid, and Hector saw much of himself in him. Hector had tried to raise David to be a good man someday, and so far, he couldn't have been a prouder father. David could handle himself, yet Hector couldn't help but wonder how he was holding up. He had grown up so fast, but in reality, he was still a kiid, just fifteen-years-old. He wasn't completely alone, though, with Hector's twin brother, Isaac, the mayor of District Ten, living just over a mile away.

More than anything, Hector wanted to show his son how important it was to never give up. That's why he had worked so hard in training to earn the score he did, and would continue to work hard in the Games. The Capitol wouldn't just simply take him like they took his wife, Angelica. Hector would be damned if he made it that easy. If he were to leave this world, he was going to go out fighting.

* * *

 **Elizabeth "Liz" Calico, District Seven Female, 38**

In the time Liz had spent in the Capitol, not once did she have to be waken up by Sin, her district's escort. Liz was used to being an early riser, with five kids to wake up and get ready for the day. She also had the farm to run, and while it probably wasn't as large as those in District Ten, but it still took a lot of work to grow all the food needed to live off of. With Justin's earnings, the family could have all the food they could ever need and then some, but neither Liz nor her husband, Jackson, felt comfortable with what felt like mooching off their son, despite his efforts to offer them a share of his winnings, so they kept the farm. As a result, Liz was up at the crack of dawn more often than not.

The morning after the private sessions was no exception. Liz left her room at six-forty-five, and expected to be the first one up and about. To her surprise, she was greeted by a light flowing out of the dining room, and found her son sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. He didn't seem to see her, so she hovered in the background, watching him for a moment. Liz loved all her children of course, but there was something special in seeing an oldest child become an adult. Justin was her firstborn, and nineteen years later, she was proud of the man he had become.

Two years previous, the possibility that she could lose Justin forever was very real. He didn't have many slips in the bowl, the minimum amount he could have as a seventeen-year-old could have. Yet, he had been reaped. He did well in the pre-Games, using the politeness Liz had taught him to charm the hearts of Capitolite sponsors. With their help, he had fought hard in the Games, eventually beating the odds against a tough group of competitors before becoming the sole survivor.

Liz had wondered whether the arena would change her son, and in some ways, it had. Justin was forced to grow from a teenager to an adult in a matter of weeks, and had been through unimaginable stress in the arena. Liz knew her son, and she could easily see the hints of pain he tried to hide. It was only reasonable, and many victors were even more torn apart by the horrors they had seen. However, he was still Justin. He was still the outgoing, adventurous, yet polite and gentle individual he had always been. He made his parents proud and was adored by his siblings. Liz knew everyone expected her to be like her son, to survive and to thrive, but she just didn't know if she could do it.

Suddenly, Justin's head turned in Liz's direction, and he offered her a small smile. "Good morning, Mom. Are you hungry? Breakfast is in the kitchen, but I wanted to wait for you."

Liz smiled back. "Thank you, Justin. That would be nice."

The two of them filled their plates before sitting directly across from each other at the table. They didn't talk strategy or anything else Games-related, as they would have plenty of time for that latter. In that moment, Liz just enjoyed the company of her son as they talked in hushed voices, careful not to wake Chase, Adler, Sin, or the stylists with their conversation. Eventually, the others, minus Adler who Sin said insisted on sleeping in, joined them, but kept breakfast brief. As soon as he was finished, Chase left the room with Sin to work on etiquette skills, leaving mother and son alone.

"Alright," said Justin, "what do you want as your angle?"

"Just as I taught you; politeness and obedience. I don't see any reason not to give the Capitol the answers they want."

Justin nodded. "That sounds good, Mom. I think it's best to be yourself. You already have the advantage of being the mother of a victor, so that alone has gotten you some positive attention. I don't really think you have to do anything fancy."

Liz nodded. She was a simple woman, raised to be a respectful individual by her parents and to be the best mother she could be herself, She didn't see flirty or mysterious as being a good angle for her. No, the best thing to do would just to comply with whatever questions Simone Silver decided to ask the following night.

"So, do you have an deep dark secret you don't want anyone to find out?" Justin joked.

Liz raised her eyebrow at her son, saying nothing.

"I'm just kidding. Clearly you don't have anything to worry about in that regard. Mostly, Simone will probably just ask you about how life has changed since I won and how it feels to have a victor for a son. She'll want to know about the rest of the family and how they are as well. I don't see there being much else, really, but I could ask you a few questions if you want to practice."

"I think I'll be alright," said Liz. "I do want to talk to you, though."

"Yeah?"

"If I die in the arena -"

Justin's eyes grew wide. "Mom, no! You're coming home! You have to!"

Liz took her son's hand and squeezed it gently. "Justin. Listen to me please."

Justin sighed. Even though he was an adult, his instinct was still to obey his mother. "Fine. Go on."

"If I die, promise me you won't blame yourself."

The nineteen-year-old looked as though he would melt into his chair. "Mom, I -"

"If I die, it won't be your fault, and I don't want you to think for a second that you failed me. Do you understand?"

Justin opened his mouth and shut it again, as if contemplating arguing, but thinking better of it. "I'll try, but Mom, I can't lose you. My siblings need you. Heck, so do I."

"I know. I want to be there for you, truly, but just in case I can't, you can't feel guilty. You have to be strong for your brothers and sisters. I know it's a lot to ask, but I believe in you. Besides, you have your father to lean on. You'll be fine."

Justin took a shaky breath. "Okay. I believe in you too, Mom. Just don't give up on me, please."

"I won't," Liz replied, knowing that's the least she could promise him. A miracle would have to occur for Liz to win, but maybe, if they were lucky, the odds would be in the Calico family's favor once again. "I'm so proud of you, Justin. I hope you know that."

Justin stood up to hug his mother. "I know. Thank you for everything you and Dad have done and for raising me to be how I am today."

"Of course," said Liz as she stretched to kiss her boy's forehead. No matter how old her children got, they would forever recieve kisses from their mother, as embarrassing as the fourteen-year-old twins, Josh and Melody, claimed it to be. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

They might have stayed together for seconds, or minutes. Liz didn't really know. What she did know, however, was that she never wanted to let her boy go.

* * *

 **Varia Staves, District Five Female, 49**

Varia knew the day was going to be long. She also knew that it was more than likely going to be one of her last days alive. She could be dead in a week.

Varia wasn't being pessimistic, at least not in her opinion. She simply didn't want to be a victor. Her mentor, Silex Ramon, handled his victory well, but she had seen how the Games had destroyed both Akila Mo and Meyer Wilson, District Five's other living victors. They were empty shells of who they used to be, and Varia didn't want to live like them, tormented by regret. She would still try to make it as far as she could to make her family proud, maybe even just to get her name in history books, but she would not win.

If things went well, maybe she could aid Tre or Calissa to victory. While Varia had her daughters and mother to care for, it seemed Tre and Calissa had less resources than she. Calissa had a dying son, while Tre was a single mother with a seven-year-old daughter. Varia's children, Valerie and Emilia, were teenagers, and while it was true that it would still be hard on them to lose her, they would still have their father, Varia's husband Nale. They would miss her of course, but Varia believed they would be okay. Overall, Varia was at peace with her inevitable death.

Belphoebe, the sweet, elderly woman who served as District Five's escort, seemed to have other ideas. She fussed over Varia and Seamon, saying she really believed they had a chance. While Seamon, who really didn't talk to anyone, tended to ignore her, Varia found herself to be kind of attached to the grandmotherly woman. They had fairly similar personalities, after all, and she and Silex seemed to work well with each other, and no bickering between the two was definitely taking away an unnecessary stressor. Belphoebe also enjoyed showing Varia pictures of her wife, three children, and three-year-old granddaughter Vanellope. Belphoebe's pride in her family was adorable and her smile infectious.

"Oh honey, I'm so proud of you," Belphoebe cooed as Varia entered the room, giving the middle-aged woman a hug.. "A five is right in the middle of the pack."

Varia smiled. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, put this on." Belphoebe handed her a soft, sky blue gown and a pair of high heeled shoes. "This isn't the dress you're wearing for the interview, mind you, but it will be good to practice in."

"Practice? Practice what?"

"Why, etiquette of course. You are a star now, Varia, a diva. I am going to teach you how to act like a renowned actress heading out of the spa Guin and I passed on to our daughter Marley after being pampered."

"Oh… alright," said Varia, offering the escort a hesitant smile. She wasn't sure how that would help her interviewing skills, but she didn't want to let Belphoebe down, so she might as well go with the flow. She went into her assigned bedroom to change before wobbling out a few minutes later in shoes that made her seem at least six inches taller than she really was.

"Is this really necessary? I'm 5'9"! I'm taller than a lot of the other women here."

Belphoebe waved her hand dismissively. "Everyone wears heels, dear. Even me, and I'm seventy-one."

"Are you willing to carry me back if I snap an ankle during the interviews?" Varia asked, her tone light and teasing.

Belphoebe didn't pick up on the joke and instead took her seriously. "Oh, don't be silly, Varia! You'll be fine! Besides, those heels are only six inches! Some pairs are thirteen or more. Just practice walking around the room."

Varia nodded and walked a few laps, feeling less and less like a newborn calf the longer she walked.

"There you go, you have the hang of it!"

For the next three and a half hours, Varia worked with Belphoebe on skills she thought should be natural, such as how to smile in the most charming, flattering way, the proper way to sit in a chair, and using an open, warm tone of voice. These tasks came easily to Varia, and she went to lunch wondering where the time went, and why she had to work on her "etiquette skills" at all.

After lunch, Varia moved into the main sitting room to practice interviewing with Silex, while Seamon left to work with Belphoebe and Akila disappeared from the District Five floor completely.

"Want some coffee?" Silex asked, leaning back on the couch he was sitting on.

Varia laughed. "We just ate!"

"Coffee is drink, not food," Silex argued. "Need I remind you?"

"Hm… good point," Varia said with a grin. "You know, I think I will have a cup. Thanks."

"Absolutely." Silex stood and filled two mugs with steaming black liquid and creamer before retaking his place on the couch.

"So, Varia, what's your angle? Are you… Sexy, maybe?" Silex's eyes twinkled, his tone joking.

When she had first met him, she had been surprised by how laid back and jolly the man had seemed to be. Although a lot of his cheerfulness was clearly faked, he still seemed to handle the trauma of the Games well. Silex had won the Sixty-First Games back when Varia was ten years old, and it had been one of the first she remembered. He had laid low with his district partner and ally, until she was killed by another tribute, who in turn, was killed by Silex. In addition, he had made a mercy kill after running into a tribute who was slowly dying from the bite of a venomous mutt. Eventually, he landed himself in the final three and witnessed the intense, long-lasting fight between the boy from One and the girl from Two. The girl from Two had been momentarily victorious, before Silex brought her down with a poison dart gun and finished her off with a knife. Although he had only killed three, it was likely he couldn't escape the survivors guilt. Varia had asked him how he managed to held himself together so well, and he had responded with, "it doesn't do any good to dwell on what could have been. I'm alive, so I need to make the most of it for the ones who can't. I take it day by day. Being a victor isn't so bad anyway. What do I have to complain about?"

Varia appreciated his outlook, and was thankful she had a mentor who was willing to try to help her home, and for that reason, she hadn't told him that she had no interest in winning. It wouldn't be fair to him. Although, she wondered if she was betraying him in someway, and that thought did make her feel a bit guilty.

"I'm forty-nine," Varia said in response to Silex's question. "I may look good for my age, Silex, but I wouldn't call it sexy. Besides, I am happily married."

"Okay, maybe that's not the best strategy. Do you have anything in mind?"

"I was hoping maybe polite and sweet. A kindly, slightly older mother who'd do anything for her kids maybe."

Silex nodded. "We can work with that. We have almost four hours, so I guess I'll just ask you some basic questions, and if you have questions about anything about the interview process, you can ask when we're finished. How do that sound?"

"That sounds good," Varia said, giving a small smile.

She meant it. She may not be alive for too much longer, but she had had a good life. She was at peace with her likely death, and it was a good feeling. Hopefully, her loved ones would understand.

 **Author's Note: Midterm session is so fun, let me tell you. -_- I really needed this spring break. Fun fact for you all: This story's first birthday was March 1! I wanted to be in the arena by now, but life gets in the way. But, we're almost there! Just two more chapters! :D This was an uneventful chapter, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.**

 **Here's a challenge for you: Find an adult Vanellope (Belphoebe's granddaughter) in another SYOT (that does not belong to me). Who is she?**


	18. Chapter 16: Interviews (part 1)

**Chapter 16: Interviews Part 1**

 **Ivory Spinel, District One Female, 19**

"Ivory, Darling, you look _stunning_. You're welcome."

Ivory smiled at her image in the mirror. She really looked beautiful, dressed in a skin-tight, silver dress that reached her knees with heels to match, and her light blonde hair in a braid. Her stylist, Romeo, stood a few steps behind her, looking smug. He had done a great job, of course, but it wasn't like he didn't have anything to work with. The red-haired stylist cleared his throat loudly, demanding attention.

"Oh, thank you," Ivory told him. "The dress looks lovely."

"Of course it does. Now go on out there. Backstage is to your right. You're first, and we start in eight minutes. Hurry up."

Ivory nodded and pushed the door open slowly, careful not to do damage to her freshly painted nails. Once backstage, she took her place quickly near the front of the line, taking one more glance in a mirror to ensure she looked presentable for the Capitolites. Ivory could easily hear the loud, exuberant voice of Simone Silver onstage as she got the audience pumped up for the excitement of the Games. Simone was entering her third year of conducting interviews for the Games, and was a fresh sight after the renowned Caesar Flickerman retired. Her first interviews may not have been as smooth as Caesar's were, but anyone could see how much of an effort she made to do well.

"Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe it is finally time for us to bring attention to the reason we are actually here tonight! The tributes!" As expected, the crowd roared with enthusiasm, and Simone took a pause for it to simmer down before she spoke again. "First up, we have the young woman who is just barely out of our standard reaping age, Ivory Spinel!"

Ivory smiled proudly and strided onto the stage before firmly shaking the interviewer's hand and sitting down across from her. She may have been reaped, but that didn't mean she couldn't let her drive to live shine through.

"Good evening Ivory! You look great!"

Ivory beamed. "Oh, thank you! You're so kind! You look amazing as well, by the way."

Simone laughed "Oh Ivory, stop! You're going to make me blush."

Ivory grins at her. "Sorry."

"That's fine! I appreciate the compliment. But we're here to talk about you, not me. You are nineteen, correct? You're one of the youngest mothers here. Please, tell us about your family."

"I have a baby girl, named Estella. She was just three weeks old when I left, but… I'm already so in love," Ivory said, sighing dramatically. There was so much more she could say about Estella, but motherhood was not something she was willing to discuss with strangers. She had no interest in explaining how much being a mother to Estella scared her, and she was constantly worried about failing her daughter. However, that was far too personal for her tastes, and she didn't want to seem as though she was whining, so playing the part of a confident mother was the best way to go. She wasn't lying, exactly. She did love Estella, and that was what made caring for her even more terrifying.

"That sounds wonderful," Simone said, smiling widely. "Now I'm sure we're all curious about the baby's father? How has he bonded with little Estella?"

"Jasper is out of the picture." Ivory tensed just thinking of him. That _boy_ wasn't fit to be called Estella's father. He simply had impregnated Ivory. He had always said he loved her, but when she told him she was pregnant, he was gone. Just like that. Ivory had been sure that he was the one, and though she didn't plan to have Estella at nineteen, she often imagined herself being married to Jasper and having kids maybe ten or fifteen years down the line. Apparently, he never felt the same way, and that broke Ivory's heart.

"Oh what a shame! Why?"

Ivory gritted her teeth. This woman just did not know when to quit. "It didn't work out. But enough about that. Wouldn't you rather her about me and how I'm going to be your victor?"

"Oh yes. You were reaped, but you still managed a fine score of 9. Do you have what it takes to match the rest of your alliance?"

Ivory nodded quickly, trying to seem eager. "Definitely. I have trained, I just never volunteered. But now that I'm here, I want victory just as much as the rest of them. I'm ready to face any obstacle I come across."

Simone grinned. "Well, I certainly can't wait to see you in the arena! How about you folks?"

The audience cheered, and Ivory grinned. "Thank you, all of you," she said, laughing a little for a happy, playful effect. "I promise I'll make you proud."

"I don't doubt it." The buzzer sounded, and Ivory was surprised by how fast the interview went by. "Ladies and gentlemen, Ivory Spinel!"

The crowd cheered wildly as Ivory did a playful curtsy and exited the stage. She felt she had done fairly well, even if she had lost her patience a bit at the mention of Jasper. Still, she would have to see the other twenty-three interviews, though really, she was sure none of these older, outer district adults would have much excitement to their interviews. Most of them were older adults, after all, not attractive, just barely out of reaping age individuals like herself. Valor, for one, didn't get as much applause as Ivory had when Simone called him to the stage, at least in her opinion. Still, he was a Career, and the crowd was eager to see him.

"Welcome Valor! Don't you look handsome?"

"Thank you, Simone. I appreciate the compliment," Valor said, smirking. Ivory hadn't spoken to him about interview strategy, but he didn't seem to have much of an angle. He was clearly just being his arrogant self.

"So Valor, you are the oldest of your alliance this year at thirty-nine years old, correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Oldest and wisest."

Simone laughed. "Good to hear. So what brings you here twenty years after the typical District One male?"

Valor leaned back in his seat. "Well Simone, I always wanted to volunteer as a teenager, but sadly, I was just barely beaten for the chance to volunteer for the Seventy-ninth Games. When given a second chance, I couldn't pass this up. I have two daughters, see, and they mean the world to me. My daughter Flair is eighteen, and she would have been set to volunteer if it weren't for the Quell. She was crushed. My youngest, Stone, is fifteen, but I want to prove to her that if her father can do it, so can she. I'm doing this for them, but also for me. I can win these Games, even if it is twenty-one years after I intended."

"Well, we believe in you, don't we?" Simone asked the crowd, who cheered in response as expected. "What have you been up to in these past two decades?"

"I'm a trainer," said Valor. He could afford to be open about his position, as Celestia Snow had "legalized" training, just over a decade previous, since everyone knew One, Two, and Four did so anyway. The three Career districts were still the only ones that trained consistently, and they were even more celebrated in the Capitol than ever before. "Fun fact for you: I taught Midas Karlen everything he knows."

"Really now? How impressive!" The camera zoomed in on the young victor's face, who waved in return. "So really, I have never stopped training myself. I'm still in great shape, as you can clearly see."

"I do see! Look at those muscles!"

Valor smirked. "Strong as an ox, Simone."

"Good to hear! How about your home life. Is there a Mrs. Acosta?"

Valor's face fell. "There was. Gaza. She, uh… she passed away of stomach cancer eight months ago."

A very audible "awwww" echoed through the crowd, and Ivory felt a pang of sadness. How terrible it must have been for Valor, to have a love so strong with his wife only to lose her. Ivory hoped she could find love again, true love this time, someone who would love her for her and not her Victor earnings, and who could love Estella like a daughter.

Even Simone looked heartbroken. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sure she'd be proud if she saw you here today."

"Yes," Valor said softly, his voice losing almost all of it's arrogant tone. "She would have been."

The buzzer sounded, and Simone patted Valor gently on the back. "Thank you, Valor. Valor Acosta everyone!"

Valor received his applause and made his way off stage, not strutting nearly as much as he did on the way on. Soon enough, Simone called Arista Lazuli to the stage, and the woman from District Two took Valor's place on the chair.

"Good evening, Arista! How are you?"

Arista smiled, her posture straight and elegant as one would expect an upper class woman to be. "I'm excellent. And yourself?"

"I couldn't be better," Simone said. "Especially since I get to speak with so many amazing tributes such as yourself."

"Oh, Simone, the pleasure is mine."

The interviewer giggled. "Now, I"m sure we all have some burning questions for you, Arista. Like Ivory, you are not our typical Career. In fact, you are the first reaped female from District Two since Enobaria was selected to participate in the last Quell. However, your training score of Nine shows that you must have some impressive skills. Would you like to tell us about that?"

"Well, I do think exactly what I did in my private session is best to remain a secret," Arista said, though Ivory knew the women was skilled with a chakram, an infrequently used weapon for most Careers. "Although I can tell you that I am employed as a part time trainer at my community training center back home, and I specialize in some more… exotic throwing weapons, so that should give you a clue."

"Ooh, now I'm excited to see just what kind of weapon you manage to snag in the arena. Speaking of which, what is your game plan? Are you sticking with the traditional alliance between Districts One, Two, and Four?"

"The four of us from One and Two are an alliance, but I'm sorry to say the pair from Four will not be joining us."

Simone produced a mock pout. "Aw, that's disappointing. Why not?"

"I don't think it's my place to say, but if you wish to ask Mr. Zale and Ms. Vale themselves, you may receive an answer."

"Hm… I'll keep that idea in mind, but for now, it's your time to shine. Tell me about your family."

"I have one son. His name is Cassander, and he will be turning thirteen this coming October. I am very proud to be his mother. He is one of my greatest treasures in life."

"How wonderful," gushed Simone. "Will we be seeing him in the arena in five or six years time?"

"My son is unsure of what path he wants to take," Arista said, giving an answer that was open to interpretation. "He will decide in time, and I will support him no matter what future he decides to build himself. He is a smart boy who can make wise decisions on his own when it is time."

"You must be so proud," Simone said, and Arista nodded. "And his father? Tell us about him."

"His father is my husband, Slate. Slate is the mayor's main advisor and confidant, and as a result, he is very well-known in District Two. He takes his work very seriously. We were married when I was eighteen and he twenty-five, and Cassander was born just over a year later."

Ivory noticed Arista didn't mention anything about how much they loved each other, or how good of a father he was to Cassander, and she wondered if there was a reason. Clearly, Simone had similar thoughts.

"Do you think he'd be proud of you for fighting for the coveted opportunity to earn the title of victor?"

Arista hesitated, but for such a short amount of time that it was barely noticeable. "He didn't say, but I'm sure he would. He have plenty of money, of course, and the Lazuli name is well-known throughout the district, but I suppose an even larger boost in status could only help."

Simone opened her mouth to ask another question, but before she could, the buzzer sounded. "Thank you, Arista Lazuli."

Arista glided off stage, giving each of her allies a nod before pulling back. As Simone called Justus' name, the thirty-four-year-old District Two man gave a whoop and strided onto the stage, his hands in the air as if he already won the Games. Ivory thought the urge to roll her eyes. This man's ego was possibly even bigger than Valor's if that was even possible. Justus moved so quickly that the top hat on his head nearly slipped off, and he had to readjust it.

"Welcome, Just… Jus-tooo!" Simone sneezed as she said Justus' name, much to the man's annoyance. "Oh, excuse me. Welcome Justus. How are you?"

"I'm pleased to _finally_ be here and gain the opportunity to be your one-hundredth victor."

"Finally? What do you mean by that."

"I was robbed of my chance to volunteer when I was eighteen do the an… injury," Justus sneered. "So when a second chance presented itself, I snatched it up before anyone else could."

"Oh dear," said Simone. "Well, I hope you're healthy now."

"Certainly," Justus replied, though Ivory was unsure of whether or not it was the complete truth. "Have you seen my training score? I'm taking that crown."

Simone laughed. "Touche. Is that why you're suit is gold? Because you intend to take the gold?"

Justus grinned. "Absolutely!"

"Then it's very fitting. Now, more often than not, the male from Two is the leader of the Career alliance. Is this still the case this year?"

Justus nodded, his hat once again slipping forward. "Of course. Valor is my right-hand man, but ultimately, it's me calling the shots."

"Do you always call the shots?"

"You bet I do. Whether I'm training my Career-wannabes at the Academy or at home with my wife and children, I am always in charge. I have taught my children to respect me and to work hard to be the best. I expect nothing but the best from my family."

"Oh? Tell us about them."

"My wife, Lenora gave me three children. She stays home to tend to the baby and keep the house spick and span. My oldest, Primitiva Enobaria is twelve, followed by Clarus Gallus at seven, and Dominicus Talon at just a year old. As you can tell, their middle names were inspired by past victors, Enobaria of the Sixty-second, Gallus Catalani of the Ninety-second, and Talon Davenport of the Eighth Games."

"Ooh, sounds like names of champions!"

"Absolutely. I'm raising my children to follow in my footsteps and become victors. Primitiva of the One-hundred-and-sixth, Clarus of the One-hundred-and-eleventh, and Dominicus of the one-hundred-and-seventeenth. Of course, they could be selected to volunteer earlier, but age eighteen is best."

"Oh?" Simone asked in interest. "Why is that?"

"More practice, of course. The more experience, the better. I am a full time trainer, and I always encourage my trainees to aim for eighteen. Only the most worthy are chosen for such an honor."

The interviewer nodded. "Of course. Well, you definitely sound like a force to be reckoned with, with all your years of experience."

"Of course. I'm the man to root for!"

Simone grinned. "I'll be rooting for you! What about you folks?"

The crowd cheered in response, and just as they quieted down, the buzzer sounded. Justus rose from his chair and gave the crowd a final wave as they roared with applause.

"Next up from District Three, the lovely Volustre Eckhart!"

The District Three woman's dark hair had been parted to the side and pulled back into a long ponytail, and she wore a furred cardigan over dark blue dress that fell to her knees. For someone from a non-career district, Volustre looked strong, with thick muscles and strong calves. She had also scored an somewhat impressive score of seven, and Ivory knew she would be one to watch. Every year, certain tributes could give the Career pack trouble, and Volustre could prove to be one of those tributes.

"Welcome Volustre! Are you enjoying your time in the Capitol?"

Volustre nodded. "You can call me Tre. And yes, I am. I really miss my daughter, though."

"Good to hear, Tre! So you have a daughter! Tell us about her."

"Her name is Jennis, or as I like to call her, Jen. She is seven years old and the love of my life. I work in a smithy working with metals, and already Jen is eager to follow in my family business."

"Aw, how sweet. It's lovely when children want to take over their parents' trades. What does her father do for a living?"

"He worked at the smithy as well, along with myself and my older sister, Rhea. Unfortunately, he passed away before Jen was even born."

Once again, a collective "aw…" was heard from the crowd.

"How sad," Simone said. "I'm so sorry, honey. It must be hard to lose someone so near and dear to your heart."

Tre nodded. "It was, but Jen keeps me strong. Everything I do, I do for her."

"You sound like an amazing mother."

"Thank you," said Tre. "I hate to be away from her. I'm so thankful for my sister, who lives with us, and that's she's watching over her while I'm here."

Simone smiled. "That's nice. You must be very close to your sister to trust her with your only child."

"I do. She's twelve years older than me, so she and our older brother Fuse raised me from the time I was a toddler after our parents passed away. She is so much more to me than just an ordinary sister."

"That sounds like a wonderful relationship. Now Tre, you scored remarkably well in your private session. A seven! That's not all too common for a tribute from District Three. What does that say about you?"

"I think that says I am determined to get home to my daughter, and that I have what it takes to do so. I may trust my sister to care for Jen, but that doesn't mean I want her to grow up without me."

"Well, you'll have many fans here cheering you on," Simone replied as the buzzer sounded. "Ladies and gentlemen, Tre Eckhart!"

Tre left the stage, and her older district partner, Niels Bundar, took her place. He wore a dark gray suit with a matching tie, and eagerly shook Simone's hand before taking a seat.

"You seem happy to be here tonight," Simone said to the friendly man across from her.

"I am!" Niels said, waving to the crowd.

"Tell me, Niels, what's the best part of the Capitol?"

Niels paused for a moment to consider his response. Once he started talking though, it was hard to keep up, as his words flowed quickly from his mouth. "Hm… well, it has to be the sweets, mainly the candy. I have a huge sweet tooth. I just wish my children could be here with me to enjoy it. As long as they were kept out of the dangers of the arena, of course."

"How many children can Niels Bundar say he's the proud father of?"

Niels beamed. "Two! A seventeen-year-old son named Dean and a ten-year-old daughter named Addilyn. We're a very tight-knit family and I miss them every day I'm away from them."

"I'm sure you are. Is there a Mrs. Bundar."

Niels smile faded ever so slightly. "There used to be," he said sadly. "Her name was Nova. She passed away of a serious heart condition. I tried my hardest, but I could never afford a cure, if one even existed."

Simone wiped at her eyes, as if to wipe away tears that didn't exist. "Oh my… so many widows and widowers tonight. How do you go on, Niels?"

"It's what she would want," Niels replied, offering a small smile. "Besides, I have Dean and Addilyn to think about. We pulled through together, because that's what family does, doesn't it?"

"You're absolutely right! So you enjoy the sweets here, but have you met any friends or allies in training?"

Niels nodded. "I'm allying with the lovely, kind women from Districts Ten and Eleven, Lil and Circe. They were kind enough to let me join their alliance, and I'm glad. It will be good to have some company in the arena."

"That's wonderful! Now, I'm sure we're all curious what skills you possess that will guide you to victory."

"Well, like most in Three, I'm quite intelligent, and I can think quickly on my feet. I'm also fairly fast." The man chuckled. "Well, for a man who's fifty-one, anyway."

"Fifty-one! Why, Niels, you don't look a day over thirty-five!"

Niels laughed. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true, but thank you for the compliment."

"Anytime," Simone said. "So what do you do with your intelligent brain of yours for work back home in District Three?"

Niels eyes lit up. "I'm an inventor! In fact there's a project I'm working on right now…"

At that point, Ivory was lost, and she was sure most of the audience members were too. Her mind wandered, and eventually, Niels was dismissed from the stage, and Meridian Vale of District Four was called up. Ivory sighed to herself, knowing they were only a fourth of the way through the interviews. This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

 **Seamon Deveir, District Five Male, 42**

Seamon stood in the corner of the backstage area, away from anyone else, watching the interviews on the hologram screen projected nearby. No one talked to him, not even his district partner, Varia, who was standing with her two allies from Three and Six. Good. Seamon didn't enjoy conversing with others, and just felt awkward around he did not know. His mentor, Akila, respected that, as she was quiet and withdrawn as well. Seamon had even told the younger woman not to bother with him, but rather help Silex with Varia, as he had no intention of winning. He had lost too much to these so-called Games. To win would be an insult to his brother and his son. He loved his family with his whole being, but he was certain they'd be fine without him. Better off, even.

Seamon wished he could live one of his last few nights - if not _the_ last night - alive in peace, but unfortunately, it was not to be. Instead, he was forced to talk to a woman with blue and silver hair who's high-pitched voice was too loud and manicured nails too long. Needless to say, he was not looking forward to it, for more reasons than one.

"Next, we have the lively Meridian Vale!"

The woman from Four strided onto the stage, leaving only three more interviews before his own. She waved wildly to the crowd, her long, wavy dark hair flowing behind her against her dark cinnamon skin. She took a seat across from Simone, grinning widely.

"You look ready!" Simone said, grinning back at her.

"I am ready!" Meridian replied, her voice energetic. "Let's get this interview started!"

Simon laughed. "My pleasure! So Meridian, I think we're all curious as to why you didn't join the Career alliance. Care to explain?"

Meridian grinned. "I guess I'm just too wild for their tastes. There are just too many differences, I suppose."

"Oh? Do you have any allies at all?"

Meridian nodded. "Marin and I are sticking together. I think we make a good team. Besides, our last names rhyme!"

Simone laughed. "They do! That must be a good sign. So, tell us about your family?"

"I have a loving boyfriend named Basil, and an eight-year-old son named Zachary. He's outgoing and mischievous, just like his mom." Meridian waved to the camera. "Hi Zachary! I hope you're being good for Basil and having fun! But not too much fun without me!"

"You just referred to your boyfriend by his name and not "dad". Is Basil not Zachary's father?"

"Biologically, no. Before meeting Basil, I was married, but my husband, John, was killed in a boating accident five years ago. I miss him of course, but Basil won my heart and helped me heal, and he loves Zachary like he's his own child. I couldn't ask for anything better."

"How sweet," Simone said. "What's life like for the three of you?"

"I work as a journalist, but in my free time, I love spending time with my family. We've done just about anything you can think of… rock climbing… scuba diving… graffiti and vandalism."

Simone raised an eyebrow at the mention of the illegal. "Graffiti and vandalism?"

Meridian laughed. "I'm just kidding. We don't do graffiti or vandalize. Or do we…? You'll never know. We do live wildly," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

The crowd, meanwhile, didn't respond with most enthusiasm, and Seamon rolled his eyes. She was being stupid, really. Sure, graffiti and vandalism were not too major of crimes unless they were made with rebel symbols and words, but they were still punishable by peacekeepers, and it was not a good idea to put a target on your back in that way, even if it was meant to be a joke. Some people just weren't _logical_.

"So what are your plans for the arena?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Meridian said, giving the interviewer a smirk. "Maybe try to fish it out of my district partner. No pun intended."

Judging by the cheeky grin on Meridian's face, Seamon was sure the pun was indeed intended, as most puns tended to be. Meridian's interview ended, and her district partner was called onto the stage. Marin beamed at the crowd, waving slightly as he sat across from Simone. He even blew a kiss to a woman sitting in the front row of the audience, who then squealed and applauded with delight. It seemed as though the twenty-year-old was set to be a fan favorite this year.

"Well, aren't you popular? It must be your handsome looks," said Simone, sending a flirty smile Marin's way.

The young man laughed. "I suppose so, Simone. I must say, it's a pleasure to be in your presence."

"Aw, thank you. The pleasure is mine. So, Marin, you are a volunteer. At twenty years old, you are two years older than our typical male volunteer from Four. Why are we just seeing you now rather than in the ninety-eighth Games?"

"Well, Simone, I would have met you earlier, since I honestly was set to volunteer for the ninety-eighth Games, but just before the reaping, I found out I was going to be a father. I wanted to raise my son, Apollo."

"So it was just bad timing?" Simone asked, and Marin gave a sad nod. "Then why volunteer now? Is your son alright?"

"He's fine. He's a healthy twenty month old. The problem is, I am a single father and my parents gave me untill my twentieth - and Apollo's first - birthday to find a job or I'd be kicked out. Unfortunately, I hadn't found anything, but the quell announcement was my saving grace. I volunteered to give my boy a better life. I want to go home to him and raise him to be the best man he can be. I love him more than anything. He even knows to call me daddy! I just… I don't want him to forget me. I want to be there for him _and_ provide him with the best life I can, and that means volunteering for and winning the one hundredth Hunger Games."

The crowd was quiet, obviously enchanted with Marin's story. Simone had tears in her eyes, although Seamon was sure they were fake. "Oh, how sweet. You sound like a wonderful father who doesn't deserve to be single. Where is Apollo's mother?"

Marin shrugged. "Does it matter where she is? I'm a single man. That's what should matter to you," he said, winking at the crowd. Seamon suspected the charm was a cover up for a question Marin didn't want to answer.

"Alright, good point. Any takers out there?" The crowd cheered in response. "As I said, very popular, Marin. So, what strategies will you and Meridian use in the arena?"

"I think we should be smart about every decision we make. Our physical strength and previous training will help a lot, but we can't rely on just that. Other than that… I guess we'll wait and see."

"Oooh, that sounds _very_ smart. So you're handsome _and_ smart. I will definitely be cheering for you, Marin."

Marin smiled sweetly. 'Thank you, Simone. It means a lot."

Marin left the stage, and Seamon's district partner, Varia, emerged into the lights and sounds of the stage. A queasy feeling developed in Seamon's stomach, and he wished Varia's interview would last for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, it could not, and Seamon's turn would arrive much sooner than he would like. Not that he wanted to go through with it at all.

"Hello, Varia. It's great to meet you."

Varia gave a small smile. "You too, Simone."

"How are you enjoying the Capitol so far?"

"It's a lovely place," said Varia, keeping her tone calm and polite. "I never imagined it to be so big and beautiful."

"Yes, I'd imagine seeing it for the first time would be a bit overwhelming. What's your plans for the Games?"

"My allies and I want to make it as far as possible in the Games. I'm not quite sure what that entails yet, but I know the three of us are strong enough to make it."

"Who are you allying with?"

"Tre from Three and Calissa from Six."

"Oh, interesting. I'm sure there is a good balance of skills there. Calissa earned a six in her private session and Tre a seven. Are you worried about them overpowering you at all?"

"No, of course not. I trust my allies. Also, as you said, we all have different skills. We'll be fine."

"Good to hear," Simone said. "It's always nice to hear an alliance is built upon a foundation of trust. It sounds like you have strong relationships here, but what about at home? What is your family like?"

Varia smiled fondly. "I'm married to the sweetest, most wonderful man named Nale. He's a teacher and the best husband and father I could ask for." She pauses, letting out a small laugh. "I might sound like a lovesick teenager, but even after more than twenty years together, we're still hopelessly in love. I couldn't imagine my life without him."

"Aw, that's wonderful. How many children do you have?"

"Two girls. Valerie is seventeen and Emilia is thirteen. I would do absolutely anything for them."

"That sounds like a lovely family. Does it include anyone else."

"I do have my mother, Wisteria," Varia said. "She's so important to me. Recently, she suffered a stroke and seeing her so helpless… it hurts me. I've been caring for her and looking after my daughters, as usually, and with my job as an accountant keeping me on my toes, I've been a bit stressed. But I'll pull through."

"I can tell you're loved and valued at home. I wish you the best."

Varia smiled. "Thank you so much."

The buzzer sounded. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Varia Staves!"

Varia walked off stage, smiling at Seamon encouragingly as he trudged towards the stage stairs after his name was called, and not a second before.

"Welcome Seamon!" Simone chirps as he sat on the edge of his chair. "How are you?"

Seamon shrugged. "Could be better."

Simone nodded. "Ah. We all have those days. Now… Deveir… that name sounds familiar. I think we've heard it before. Would you like to talk to us about it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Seamon said, but he knew his words were a poor choice almost as soon as they flowed from his mouth.

"Does Deacon Deveir sound familiar to you folks?" Simone paused as the crowd mumbled among themselves. If they didn't remember the name Deacon Deveir, perhaps they should have their memories checked, Seamon decided. "For those of you who have forgotten, young Deacon was our District Five male in the Ninety-Eighth Games at age fourteen. How did your son's death affect your family, Seamon?"

"As you would expect," Seamon said coldly. "We all were devastated."

Devastated was an understatement. After Deacon's death, Seamon had completely shut down, falling into a deep depression that he never fully escaped. Because of his struggle to go on, Seamon had failed his three surviving children. He couldn't even care for them properly, and his wife Marylynn put all her energy into being the primary salary earner in the household for a while, as well as caring for Seamon on days he couldn't even bring himself to move. After a week or two, they decided it would be best if the children lived with Marylynn's sister while Seamon battled the worst of his depression. Trevor, Reagan, and Regina, his children, didn't blame him, but Seamon blamed himself. However, it wasn't going to tell the entire nation that. Never.

"Naturally. It must be so hard. Especially since I understand you lost your older brother to the Seventy-first Games. How old were you?"

"Thirteen," Seamon muttered, not wanting to discuss the loss of his beloved brother Sully. He had lost so much in his life, and hated that he was being forced to relive the memories.

Once again, Simone teared up, though those tears surely had no genuine meaning. "So horrible to lose your brother so young. I'm sure you'll make him proud, and your son too."

Seamon gave a short nod, though he didn't believe it himself.

"What about the rest of your family? Tell us about them."

Seamon took a deep breath. "My wife's name is Marylynn. She is my greatest supporter. My son Trevor is eighteen, and my daughters Reagan and Regina are sixteen and twelve respectively."

"What a lovely family. How do you plan on making it back to them?"

The trouble was, Seamon didn't plan on returning home to his family, but he didn't think it was practical to say so, especially with his family listening. "I'm looking at my situation logically. To me, it's not logical to be reckless, so I expect I'll be staying low."

The buzzer sounded, and Seamon didn't think he could have left the stage any faster than he did. He stood up for his chair before Simone could utter another word.

"Seamon Deveir, everyone! Next up, we have the stunning Calissa Peer of District Six!"

The young woman took a seat in the chair Seamon was just in, her red dress brushed to the side.

"Good evening, Calissa. How are you tonight?"

"I'm well," Calissa replied, smiling confidently. "Yourself?"

"I'm wonderful, thank you! So, tell me about yourself and what I assume is your adorable family."

Calissa launched into a story about her five-year-old son, Damien, who was diagnosed with a fatal disorder called Scalapino's disease, which had emerged after the Dark Days. Even though the disease was incredibly rare, Seamon had heard of it, and it was not good news, as no child who inherited the genetic disorder ever survived longer than perhaps six or seven years old, more often, younger. From what he knew of it, early signs such as drowsiness, disorientation, vision problems, forgetfulness, loss of coordination, and tremors seemed manageable, until the condition progressively worsened until the most serious symptoms such as blindness and deafness, seizures, reversed mental and motor development, severe memory loss, and loss of all body movements set in. It was as if the child's body attacked itself to the point of completely failing and eventually shutting itself down. The prognosis for any child was surely a terrible one for parents to face, especially since her son's twin, Robin, had already passed from the disease. By the end of her story, Calissa had broken down, and Simone and most of the audience were crying along with her. For once, the tears sliding down Simone's face seemed real. She moved from her chair and wrapped her arms around Calissa in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, honey. What are a horrible, horrible disease for your little boy. Where is he now?"

"With his father. But I need to make it home to him. He needs me. Because of the disease, I don't even know if he still remembers me."

"You'll make it," said Simone. "I believe in you."

"Thank you," Calissa said, offering a weak smile.

"At least you seem to have supportive allies."

"Oh, yes, definitely. Tre and Varia are wonderful. I'm happy to have two women I can trust in the arena."

"Good. Can you tell me any of your strategy."

"I think we'll keep it simple. Nothing to complicated. There's three of us, so if we put our minds together, one of us will hopefully make it out. I just… I need to see my little boy again. I hope you can understand my desperation."

"Of course," Simone said. "I wish you the best of luck."

Maddox was up next. He seemed like a decent guy and had even tried to talk to Seamon, but Seamon wouldn't have it. He refused to talk to any of the other tributes, even Varia if he could help it. Still, the man seemed logical, and Seamon could respect that.

"Welcome Maddox!"

"Thank you. I'm not sure if my interview can match the standards that my lovely district partner, Calissa, set, but I'll try my best," Maddox said, slightly awkwardly.

"That's fine! We're just as eager to talk with you."

"Alright, fair enough," Maddox said, smiling slightly.

"Let's start with what's at home for you. Anyone special?"

"Well, I have been married to my husband, Warren, for fifteen years."

"Aw," Simone cooed. "How did you two become fathers?"

"We adopted two wonderful kids Alasdair and Giselle from orphanages. Alasdair was about five months old when we adopted him, and though navigating parenting was challenging at first, six years later we adopted our daughter Giselle, who was two at the time. Now Alasdair is fifteen and Giselle is eleven, and we couldn't be happier."

"That's great to hear! Do you have an allies for the Games?"

Maddox shook his head. "I didn't have much luck finding any. That's alright though. I'll be fine on my own. I'm determined to make it home to Warren and the kids. I know it seems like a repetitive theme that many other tributes have mentioned, but it's true. I don't care how I get there, but seeing my family again is all that matters."

"Well, I think it's repetitive because it's perfectly understandable," said Simone. "Do you have any idea how you plan to make that happen?"

"I do," Maddox replied slowly, "although I'm not sure if giving away my secrets and strategy to the other tributes is really the best idea."

"Oh, very true. Too bad. I'm sure it's a good plan anyway."

Maddox nodded awkwardly. "I hope so."

"You earned a decent score in private sessions, a six, so that should help. I don't suppose you can tell us about that, can you?"

"No, I don't suppose I can," Maddox said with a small shrug.

Simone sighed. "Oh well." The buzzer sounded. "Well good luck! Maddox Hazeldine, ladies and gentlemen!"

Maddox shook SImone's hand and left the stage. Finally, they were half way through the interviews. The night had been dragging on, and yet they still had twelve tributes to go before Seamon could return to the District Five suite and hope to get some sleep.

If only he didn't have to wake up again.

 **Author's Note: I'm alive! Do not panic! I'm sorry for the delay, school swallowed me whole and then I've had little motivation to write all these interviews the past two weeks. That's another thing, this chapter was huge, and I was just writing the district One interviews when I decided that the interviews would definitely need two chapters! Hopefully we'll get rolling again and I'll have the next interview chapter out soon!**

 **Who's interview stuck out the most and why? Oh, and there is a poll on your favorite tributes to vote on if you wish. :)**


	19. Chapter 17: Interviews (part 2)

**Warning: Rude, vulgar language in Dresden's interview, as well as Lucy's (but really, when is Lucy not swearing up a storm?). Not for sensitive readers.**

 **Also, minor spoiler warning, but I think it's important to have this warning just in case: a panic attack is described at the end of the chapter, marked with an asterisk (*)**

 **Chapter 17: Interviews, Part 2**

 **Saffron Jameson, District Nine Female, 45**

Saffron was on edge. She always knew she was never one to deal with stress well, and nothing was more stressful than knowing that in less than twenty-four hours, her life would be in danger. In moments of stress, she wasn't herself, and became a closed-off shell. She wasn't proud of the person she became, but felt helpless in controlling the shift in demeanor. Perhaps her coldness was the cause of her having no allies heading into the Games. In her best moments, Saffron had no trouble making friends; she and her best friend, Kasha, for example, had been friends since high school and remained friends even as adults. However, it seemed like Saffron didn't have as much luck in the Capitol. Although, she wasn't sure the arena was the right place for friends, anyway.

Saffron's eyes were glued on the hologram screen, watching every interview before hers as she tried to keep herself together and mentally rehearsed what she was going to say. Up next was Elizabeth Calico, the reserved mother from District Seven. As soon as Simone said the woman's name, the crowd rippled with excited mumblings, which made sense. Liz was, after all, the mother of a victor, nineteen-year-old Justin Calico of the Ninety-eighth Hunger Games. She smiled calmly at the crowd as she sat down, giving them a gentle wave.

"Welcome Liz," the interviewer greeted. "What an honor it is to have you with us today."

"Thank you," Liz replied, offering a polite smile.

"Can you believe it has been two years since we last saw you? The last time we spoke, your son, victor Justin Calico, was in the final eight. How is living in Victor's Village with a victor?"

"Actually, Justin lives on his own. My husband Jackson and I feel if we were to live in Justin's beautiful mansion, we'd be taking advantage of him, and neither of us feel comfortable doing so. Instead, we still lived on the subsistence farm that we've raised all five of our children on, with Justin helping us out physically and financially now and then."

"Oh, I see," said Simone. "Do you still see him often?"

Liz nodded. "Yes, of course. The farm is only a few miles from Victor's village. Our twins, Josh and Melody, visit Justin frequently, as do the rest of us."

"That sounds lovely. So Justin, Josh and Melody. Remind us again of your other two children and their ages."

"Justin's the oldest, followed by our daughter Avi at seventeen. The twins are fourteen, and our youngest, Daniel, is four."

"Ah, yes, and they are so adorable if I remember correctly. How has your life changed since Justin's victory?"

"Well, as I said, we still live on the farm," Liz said. "Our biggest change is that we don't have to struggle for money like we used to, which is a tremendous relief off our shoulders."

"I imagine so! So tell us, Liz, what is your strategy to the Games? Has Justin given you all the secrets to victory?"

"I'm going to keep to myself. I'm not one to go looking for conflict."

Simone nodded. "That sounds wise. Do you have allies?"

Liz shook her head. "Not at this moment."

"Does Justin agree with your choice?"

"Yes," Liz replied. "He trusts me to make smart decisions for myself."

"Well, Liz, I'm sure you make your son very proud." The buzzer sounded. "Elizabeth Calico, everyone!"

Liz left the stage, and her district partner, Chase, took her place. He waved, blowing kisses to the crowd, even though his expression held hints of nervousness. "Welcome, Chase! Are you enjoying your stay in the Capitol.

For a moment, Chase only stared at her a soft smile on his face. "Chase?"

"Huh?" He quickly shook his head, as if trying to dislodge water from his ear. "Oh, I'm sorry Simone. I must have been distracted by your incredible beauty. Could you repeat the question?"

Simone giggled. "Thank you, Chase. I'm honored. As for my question, I was simply wanting to know if you were enjoying your time in the Capitol?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Chase with a grin. "It's wonderful. So many beautiful people of all genders."

He winked at the crowd, and Simone laughed. "Are you attracted to people of all genders?"

"Yep. I'm pansexual."

"Are you in a relationship right now?"

"Yes, M'am. I am dating the most amazing man named Connor. He's really hot. Especially when he wears make-up. He often jokes that I wish he was my girlfriend, though that's not true. I love the guy he is. And he's definitely a guy. Trust me, I've seen proof. Many times."

Most of the Capitolites laughed, though Saffron noticed that some of her fellow tributes backstage looked rather uncomfortable. "Don't you think he wouldn't be happy with all this flirting you've been engaged in tonight?"

Chase shrugged. "Nah. That's a cool thing about Connor's and my relationship. We both love and trust one another enough that he'd understand. He knows my true intentions."

Anyone with half a brain could realize Chase intentions were to charm the Capitolite sponsors, and to him, that meant flirting despite being in a romantic relationship. It wasn't an approach Safforn would take, but it seems to work well enough for Chase.

"That sounds like a special bond you have. How many children do you have?"

"Only one. His name is Lance and he is eighteen. It's hard to believe myself. He's a good kid, dedicated and responsible. I continue to be in awe of him every day."

"Did you and Connor adopt him, then?" Simone asked.

"Oh, no. At least, not to my knowledge."

Simone raised her eyebrows. "Not to your knowledge. What do you mean?"

Chase launched into a story that dated back to a time before he ever met Connor, back to a time where he was engaged to a woman named Molly. Not long after Molly became pregnant with Lance, Chase found out she had been cheating on him. "I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But no, I was wrong, and… well, it hurt. So I left her, but then the time came for the baby to be born and Molly died in childbirth. So here I was, and here was Lance, both of us all alone in the world. So I decided that even if he wasn't mine, I'd take him and raise him because I didn't trust any of those jerks Molly slept with to treat him right. Besides, I don't do half bad of a job as a parent, according to Lance, and like I said, the kid's amazing, so I must have done something right."

"Oh, how sweet," said Simone. "Besides, even if he isn't yours biologically, you raised him, and who says family has to be blood anyway?"

"I sure don't," Chase replied.

Simone smiled kindly. "So, Chase, how do you plan on getting home to him?"

Chase hesitated, a flash of panic in his eyes. Saffron wasn't sure if he actually had a plan. "Well, I prefer to keep it a surprise. I love surprises, don't you?"

The interviewer beamed. "Of course!"

"Great! Well, whatever I end up doing, it won't be possible with all your love and support, so thank you for showing it to me tonight."

"Aw," Simone cooed as the buzzer signaled the end of the interview. "You're very welcome. Chase Aldreon everyone!"

The crowd applauded, and Chase once again waved enthusiastically to them as he left the stage. Anita from District Eight was called on stage next, and she walked much more calmly to her chair than the man before her did.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Anita," Simone said to the pale, aging woman in front of her as Anita took her seat.

Anita gave a stiff nod. "Thank you."

"How is life in District Eight? How do you spend your days?"

"I am a shift manager at a factory, and work hard to make sure our monthly quotas are met. I'm proud to say that our floor is one of the best in the factory. However, my main priority and job is being a mother. I have five kids, Walsh at nineteen, Erica at seventeen, Sebastian at fourteen, Mimi at twelve, and Hope at eight."

"Wow! What a large family! Do you enjoy it?"

"Absolutely. God has blessed me."

Saffron was surprised. She had heard of the old world religions like Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, but a lot was lost with the rise of Panem. Never before had she met a follower of one of the religions. She didn't know if she believed in anything, but imagined it would be nice to have something to believe in like that.

"Wonderful," said Simone. "I'm sure they keep you busy, though."

"They certainly do. As I said though, I love every minute of motherhood. In fact, I'm ready for grandchildren."

Simone laughed. "Do you? You seem too young to be a grandmother."

Anita smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"Do your children know that you're eagerly awaiting them to have babies of their own?"

"Walsh is aware, yes. He's dating a wonderful girl, and I believe he plans to marry her. Erica hasn't found a boy yet, but she has time. As for the others, they're still young."

"Well, let's hope you make it home so you can meet those future grandchildren of yours."

"That's the plan," Anita said.

"Speaking of plans, what is your strategy for the Games?"

"I want to play it safe," Anita replied. "Hopefully God will forgive my sins of murder. While I'm not happy about it, I know killing others is something I will unfortunately have to do in order to get home to my children, and my husband, Derick. Although killing is against God's commandments, I'll just have to pray He'll someday forgive me and allow me into his kingdom of Heaven."

"How nice," Simone said, carefully dodging the subject of religion. "It sounds like you are determined to do anything to make it home, even go against your morals?"

Anita nodded. "Yes. I must. My family needs me."

With that, Anita's interview ended, and Simone called Dresden Lume to the stage.

"Good evening, Dresden!"

The man huffed. "Is it?"

"I think so. I get to speak with so many amazing tributes!"

"Lucky you," Dresden grumbled.

"So, tell me about your family."

Dresden stared at her with icy eyes. "Don't have any."

"What do you mean? You must have a child. That is the Quell twist, after all. All twenty-four of you are parents."

"That's the thing. I just found out I fathered a child on reaping day. With some woman named Teresa, who I barely remember now. My name must be on the birth records or something. I have no idea how old this kid is or anything like that." He barked out a sudden, bitter laugh. "Not that the kid would be any better off with me. Anyway, then my name was fucking drawn out of the bowl. Imagine that, finding out you have a kid and being reaped in the same day."

Simone frowned. "Oh… I'm sorry."

Dresden sneered. "No you're not. No one cares about me. Especially not Capitol bitches."

The crowd was murmuring amongst themselves, and Saffron felt a bit embarrassed for Dresden. He must realize how unpopular he was quickly becoming. Perhaps he didn't care about popularity, though, or even sponsors for that matter.

"So there's no significant other? Anyone special?"

Dresden laughed humorlessly. "Not since I was sixteen. Not that I'm going to tell you who that was. You know him, but it's none of your damn business."

"Know him? How? Was he a tribute?"

The man glared at her. "Are you deaf woman?"

Simone stared at him for a moment, stunned. Finally, she recomposed herself. "Okay… so no one since then?"

"Unless you count sleeping around. In which case, I've been with too many people to count. Bet many of you Capitolites can relate. Tell me, Simone, how much action do you get as an interviewer? Not much I wouldn't think, but this is the Capitol. I bet most people would fuck anything that moves."

Simone cheeks flushed slightly, but she ignored the comment. "So… what are your plans for the Games?"

"Kill everyone that pisses me off. Can I be done now?"

Simone hesitated. "That sounds like a good idea," she said finally. "Dresden Lume, everyone!"

Only a few clapped out of politeness, while the rest were silent. Saffron took a deep breath, hoping her interview would go smoothly after the mess that was Dresden's. Simone introduced her, and Saffron tried to look confident as she crossed the stage and sat in the chair across from the interviewer.

"Hello, Saffron," Simone said, sounding a bit awkward as she tried to regain her composure. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Saffron replied politely. "Thank you for asking."

"Of course. How is life treating you in District Nine?"

"It's alright. My husband Milo and I have three children whom we love dearly. Farra is our oldest at sixteen, our son, Cameron, is twelve, and our younger daughter, Zea, is seven. I work as an accountant, but currently am out of work, unfortunately."

"An accountant! Wow! You must be smart."

Saffron smiled, in a way that she hoped portrayed confidence. "I would say so."

"That's great. So besides your brain, what else do you having going for you that will help in the arena?"

"I'm a fast runner, especially for my age. I'm also hardworking and determined."

Simone nodded. "Good skills indeed. And a training score of five is not bad, either. I don't suppose you could tell us what you did?"

Saffron shook her head. "Sadly not. But I assure you, I'm more capable than I look," she said, knowing her scrawny, malnourished body wasn't likely to earn many sponsors on its own. "Don't count me out."

"Oh, I won't. I can see determination in your eyes. I'm sure you'll be a deadly force."

"I will," Saffron said. "I'll do whatever it takes to become District Nine's next victor. It's been too long since we've brought a tribute home, and I intend to change that."

"Oh, that's right! District Nine has no living victors! What is it like to not have a mentor?"

"It's hard," Saffron admitted. "I feel as though Zane and I, along with the District Twelve tributes, are at a slight disadvantage. There is only so much our escort, Essylt, can do to help us. Despite not having a victor mentor though, I think I have what it takes to manage on my own."

"That sounds like the right attitude to have. Do you have any allies? Maybe you can learn some of the secrets their mentors gave them?"

Saffron shook her head. "I don't have allies. In the arena, I'll only have to worry about myself." She had considered allies, but hadn't managed to find any she could trust. Hopefully, going solo in the arena would work to her advantage. She could focus on her own survival, without living with the guilt of losing an ally or the risk of being stabbed in the back if it came to it.

"Oh well. Maybe you'll make a truce in the arena. I've seen allies meet in the arena and then be loyal to each other until the end, so it's possible."

Saffron nodded. "That's true. You never know. I'm not counting on it, though. In the end, the person I need to rely on most is myself."

"Good attitude!" Simone said as the buzzer sounded. "Thank you, Saffron Jameson!"

Saffron left the stage, a sense of relief sinking into her. Her interview was over, and while she wasn't sure if she stuck out in anyone's minds, at least it had gone well for her. She returned to the still vacant place she had previously been standing, and watched as her district partner slowly made his way onstage. Zane stared at the ground as he shuffled to his chair, refusing to even look at the crowd, or even Simone.

"Welcome Zane!" the interviewer greeted. Zane ignored her. "How are you?"

This time, Zane merely shrugged.

"Tell me about your family. Who is waiting for you back home?" Simone paused, waiting for an answer. When she received no sign that Zane had heard her, she asked another question. "How many children do you have?"

"One," Zane muttered.

"What is her name?"

Again, Zane remained silent. The interview dragged on painfully slow, with Zane saying maybe three or four words his entire interview. In fact, Saffron could probably count the number of times he had spoken to her or Essylt the past few days on one hand. He mostly stayed in his room, and only came out to go to training, as Essylt would force him out each morning. Saffron didn't know anything about her district partner, and it was as though she was watching him through a screen like she watched the tributes of any other year. Eventually, Simone gave up, and dismissed Zane from the stage. She looked tired, and Saffron couldn't blame her. She was tired as well.

Just four more interviews to go, and Saffron would be free to return to the District Nine suite. Hopefully, she would be able to get some rest before the real challenge began.

* * *

 **Joshua Yates, District Twelve Male, 33**

Joshua's interview was last, and it was not easy on his nerves.

He missed his life and the simplicity of it all. He missed his job as a healer. Helping people made Joshua feel more grounded, like he had a purpose in life. It was how he met Gabriel, after all, after the older man had come to the eighteen-year-old healer's apprentice with a broken leg and minor burns from a mining accident.

Oh, Gabriel. Joshua missed him more than anything else, with their kids coming in close second. Gabriel and their oldest daughter, Evvy, were Joshua's closest friends, and he felt lost without them by his sides. Hazel and Vigo, their ten-year-old daughter and five-year-old son, were just adopted two years ago, but they too had become a constant presence in his life. All Joshua wanted was to go back home to them. But was it even possible?

"Next up, we have the lovely Lil Carey of District Ten," Simone announced enthusiastically, drawing Joshua's attention back to the stage. Only five tributes separated him from his interview now, but it might as well be one hundred.

"Good evening, Simone," Lil said cheerfully as she sat down, giving the crowd a little wave. "Hello, everyone."

"Good evening, Lil! You seem to be in a good mood."

Lil shrugged. "I'm happy to be here with you, I guess."

Simone smiled. "Good. I'm so glad I get to speak with you, too. What's life like for you in District Ten."

"Oh, you know. I spend my days wearing overalls and shoveling cow poop. Phew!" Lil said, trying to make the crowd laugh. She was awarded with a few chuckles, while many of the stuck up audience members looked appalled. Joshua suspected they hadn't done an ounce of hard work in their lives.

Simone herself wrinkled her nose. "Ew. So you work with cows?"

"Partially. My family and I live and work on my wife's family farm. We're a small family farm that raises a bit of everything to be sold to you lovely folks in the Capitol. We have a chicken coop to sell eggs and a small herd of dairy cows for milk. We also have ducks, geese, and a few goats."

"Wow! That sounds it keeps you busy! Do your kids help you out?"

"Jing tries. She's only four, though, so there is almost so much she can do. Once I had her gather the eggs, and let's just say she forgot how fragile they are."

Simone laughed, as did many audience members. "Oh dear. I could see how that would end poorly. Any other children?"

"Our Jenna is even younger at only a year old, but I'm sure if she's anything like her mommy and mommy Jing, she'll be a hard worker one day. Jing and I do have help from my close friend, Merita, and together we manage to meet or exceed quota every month."

"Aw, how sweet. Did you and Ling adopt Jing and Jenna?"

Lil shook her head. "Ling and I both had boyfriends before we started dating. Long story short, we both ended up as single moms, with Ling giving birth to Jing and me having Jenna. I already worked on Ling's family farm, so I went to her for advice. We fell in love not too long after that. Do you want to know a secret, though?"

Simone grinned. "Of course I do."

"I think I had feelings for her before then. I just didn't know it yet."

"Awww," Simone cooed, and much of the crowd agreed. "That's so adorable!"

Lil beamed. "Thanks! I'm going to try my hardest to make it home to them. You can count on it."

"I'm sure you will! Now, a while ago, Niels Bundar said he was in an alliance with you and Circe Banks of District Eleven. Is that correct?"

Lil nodded. "Yes. I don't think I could have found better allies. They're great. If I can't make it home, I definitely hope one of them do."

After Lil left the stage, her district partner, Hector, took his place.

"Welcome Hector! Are you enjoying your stay in the Capitol?"

Hector's expression was stern. "I don't think enjoying is the right word. But it's not bad."

"As we know, Hector, you hail from District Ten. Do you farm like your district partner?"

The man shook his head. "I am a simple blacksmith, though I make some equipment many farmers use for their livestock."

"Ah, what an important part of the economy. After all, what is a horse without horseshoes?"

"Exactly."

"Do you have a significant other that works with you?"

"No. My wife Angelica is dead. She was torn away from me far beyond her time," Hector said coldly.

"Oh no," Simone said, "I'm so sorry. How many children did she leave behind."

"One. Our son David is fifteen. He was nine when his mother was taken from him. I try to spend as much time with him as possible, taking him out into the district so that he can learn about life in District Ten."

"Is he home alone while you're here in the Capitol?"

"Not totally. My twin brother, Isaac, the mayor of District Ten is checking in on him and is available if David needs him. David's responsible enough that I trust him to stay out of trouble. I don't plan on being gone from him long, though."

"Well, you certainly have a good chance," Simone said. "You received an eight in training, the highest of any outer district tribute, and tying with Meridian Vale of District Four. What does that mean for you?"

"It means I'm willing to fight. I won't stop until I'm home."

"I believe in you. Do you have any allies to help you achieve that goal?"

Hector nodded. "I am allied with Lucy Furorum of District Twelve."

"Interesting. Why choose Ms. Furorum as your ally? She is, after all, the youngest in this competition, only three years older than your own son. "

"Lucy is strong," Hector replied. "She scored a six in her private session, and has a fighting spirit like mine. I believe she and I will be able to make it far together."

"Let's hope so," Simone said. She was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer. "Hector Jackson!"

Next up was Circe, the timid, frail woman from District Eleven. The middle-aged woman shuffled onto the stage slowly, wringing her hands and rolling something Joshua couldn't identify back and forth between her fingers.

"How are you?" Simone asked.

Circe quivered in her chair. "Alright," she said, so softly Saffron could hardly hear her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. What do you you have waiting for you in District Eleven."

"My husband, Harvey, my sister Damaris, and my children Ciara and Tiernan." Circe's voice shook, as if she was fighting back tears.

"How nice. How old are your children."

"E-eleven and seven…"

"Ah, so they're still so young. What about your husband? What is he like? Is he a good father?"

"He… He's the best. He's sweet and loving and…" Her voice broke and tears began to pool from her eyes. "I miss him," Circe whispered weakly.

"There, there," Simone said, patting Circe on the back awkwardly. "What do you do for a living?"

"Work in the fields, mostly," Circe managed to reply. She was still fidgeting with the object in her fingers, which caught Simone's attention.

"What is that?"

Circe gazed at the interviewer in confusion. "Hm?"

"In your hand. Is that your token?"

The other woman glanced down at her hand and uncurled her fingers to reveal a small, blue crayon. She nodded. "Yes. It's my son Tiernan's crayon. It's one of the very few he has."

"Oh, how sweet," Simone said, smiling sympathetically. Despite her gentleness, Circe was still quaking with fear. "It must have taken a lot of selflessness to give up something of his own like that."

Circe nodded ever so slightly.

"So, how do you like your allies?"

"I… I'm lucky to have them. I would never make it without them. I'm not sure if I can make it anyway," Circe said, tears still flowing heavily from her eyes.

Simone finished the interview as gently as she could, and then called Victor Mackall on stage. The forty-year-old was certainly cheerful as he strolled to his chair, as if he was coming to chat with old friends.

"Hello, Simone!" He said, shaking the interviewer's hand firmly. She laughed.

"Well, hello, Victor! You have a strong grip there."

Victor shrugged. "Do I?" He turned to the crowd. "I never noticed!"

The crowd laughed, and Victor grinned.

"So, Victor, you're from District Eleven. How is life treating you?"

"Well, thanks! I grew up in one of the most well-off families in the district with my older step-sister Heidi, and our family has never had to go without. I now have a beautiful wife named Alison. We just had our first wedding anniversary about a month ago."

"Oh, congratulations!"

"Thank you," said Victor. "We're expecting our first baby in about a month!"

"Your first? Then how are you here? Only parents of already born children are eligible for the reaping."

"Oh, right! Heidi, my step-sister, lives with us because her husband died. She has a nine-year-old son named Frank, and Alison adopted him. So, legally, the boy has three parents, which made me eligible to be reaped, I guess. We live off money I inherited from my parents and my job."

"Oh, I see. What is your job?"

"I haul baskets of fruit from the trees to the trucks. It's not hard, so I spend the rest of my days relaxing."

"Interesting! So Victor, are you ready for the Games? Maybe Victor will become a victor?"

Victor laughed. "Hopefully!" He faced the crowd "Victor the victor has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Some cheers were heard, causing Victor to beam. "I'm ready. I do hope the Games go by quickly, though."

"I don't blame you. Do you have an ally to keep you company?"

Victor grinned. "Absolutely! Chase from District Seven."

"Oh, what a fun pair!" Simone said, smiling.

"Of course! I hope you show us your support!"

"I'm sure you have many fans here," said the interviewer.

Throughout the rest of the interview, Victor managed to keep up his energy. After he left the stage, Simone called up Joshua's fiery district partner. Joshua could feel his hands grow cold and clammy. He was next, and with what he knew about Lucy, he would have quite the show to follow.

The young woman stomped onstage, looking as sour as usual.

"Welcome Luciel!" Simone greeted. "You go by Lucy, correct?"

Lucy shrugged. "That, or crazy pyro. Whichever."

Simone looked as though she wanted to run away and hide. Joshua wouldn't blame her if she did, since Lucy had that effect on him, too.

"So Lucy, you got a six in training. Care to tell us about it?"

"I burned stuff. Must of impressed them at least a little if it earned me a six."

"You burned stuff?"

"Yep," said Lucy, choosing not to elaborate.

"What kind of stuff?"

Lucy gave another shrug. "Training equipment."

"Interesting," said Simone, probably deciding it was best to let the subject go. "You're allied with Hector from Ten. What's that like."

"Fine. I trust him well enough."

"Good. What is life like for you in Twelve?"

"Sucky."

"How about your child? You're certainly a young mother."

As soon as she asked the question, Joshua knew it was a terrible idea. Lucy glared sharply at the interviewer. "You can shove that fucking question up your ass."

"Alright," Simone said slowly. "If we can't talk about your child, what can we talk about?"

Lucy sneered. "How about this? You ask a question I don't answer, I say no, and you fuck off about it? Deal?"

Simone looked like she wanted to argue, but finally sighed. "Alright, do you have a fam-"

"Nope."

"Are you and the father of -"

"No fucking way."

"... What do you do for fun?"

"I paint."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. What do you paint?"

Lucy shrugged. "Fire mostly. I then sell them to the uppity merchant class people back in Twelve. Everyone likes fire paintings by the pyromaniac."

"Is that what happened to your eye?" Simone asked "Was it injured in a fire?"

"None of your fucking business," Lucy snapped. "Look, I don't want your pity."

Simone wisely backed off, and somehow, Lucy left the stage at the end of her interview without completely exploding on the interviewer.

"And now for the final interview of the night, we have Joshua Yates of District Twelve!"

Joshua swallowed hard. This was it. He settled into the tribute chair, trying to look more ready than he felt.

"Welcome, Joshua! Have we saved the best for last?"

"I..." He cleared his throat. "I guess so."

""So, let's mix things up and start with your plans for the arena. What skills do you have that will help you survive?"

"I'm good with plants. I know what's edible and what's poisonous. I can use both to my advantage."

"Oh, interesting!" How do you know so much about plants."

"I'm a healer," Joshua said. "Therefore, I know which plants can be use for medicine, and which cause a toxic reaction in the human body."

" That sounds useful! Do you enjoy being a healer?"

Joshua nodded. "I like helping the weak. I can't bare to see someone suffer."

"Understandable," said Simone. "What about your family? What are they like?"

Joshua hesitated, a large lump that he could not swallow forming in his throat. He knew he could be asked about his family, and he thought he had been ready, but he clearly was not. He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to hold himself together. Rage that he had been holding back for days built up inside him. The Capitol was the reason he was separated from his family right now, and Simone had the audacity to ask about them as if she were a long lost friend!

"Oh, like you care!" Joshua burst out suddenly, much to the surprise of Simone and even himself. "You asked twenty-four people the same questions over and over. How old are your children? What are they like? I'm sure the audience got bored of that long ago and they won't remember the names of my three ten minutes from now! You can't tell me you, or any of you, give a shit about any of these children! The Capitol took me from my children, who I promised to protect since the day we brought them home, and a husband who loves me for me. Twenty-four families are _destroyed_ year after year, but does anyone here care? Of course not! Your precious Games are more important to you, and they always will be, even after one hundred years of suffering!"

* Hot, angry tears were slowly rolling down Joshua's cheeks, and judging by the silence of Simone and the audience, he knew he had fucked up. His breathing was heavy, and try as he might, he couldn't stop his hands and legs to stop shaking. Before anyone could speak again, the buzzer signaled the end of the interview.

"Joshua Yates, everyone!" Simone said after a small pause. Joshua had never hurried away from anywhere faster.

Once he returned backstage, Joshua found his escort, Agustino, quickly ushering him and Lucy onto the elevator. The other two could have been talking, but Joshua couldn't focus. All he could concentrate on was how poorly he messed up the end of his interview. He couldn't believe he had exploded like that! What had driven him to do something so… so stupid!

As soon as the elevator door slid open, Joshua made a beeline for his room and slammed the door shut behind. He fell back, trying to catch his suddenly rapid breath. He felt hot all over, and his legs and hands continued to quiver. This was horrible. It truly was. He was going to die. It was certain now. Maybe the Gamemakers would even kill him themselves on the first day as punishment. Joshua gripped his arms, his nails digging into his skin, not hard enough to break it, but just enough so he could feel it. Who would sponsor someone who blew up at poor Simone like that?! He wouldn't. He doubted any Capitolite would either.

Ugh, why, why, _why_ had he done that? He might as well just die now and spare his children the pain of seeing him die on camera. Joshua felt wheezy and dizzy, like he was about to pass out at any moment. Perhaps he even wanted to. He closed his eyes and let out a sob, tears flowing heavily now. His words repeated over and over again, refusing to leave his head.

 _I'm so sorry, Gabriel,_ Joshua thought as he curled into a fetal position on his bed. _Evvy. Hazel. Vigo. I'm so, so sorry. I have failed you._

 **Author's note: Just one more chapter, where we'll hear from Arista, Dresden, and Circe, and then the Games! Who's ready? I don't think I am. :'(**

 **If you haven't and you still want to, feel free to vote for your favorite tribute on the poll on my profile. :) I'll be keeping it up until the bloodbath chapter.**


	20. Chapter 18: The Final Moments

**Chapter 18: Final Moments**

 _ **The Night Before**_

 **Arista Lazuli, District Two Female, 31**

Arista was tired of Lucius Allen. He was, simply put, an egotistical asshole. Having won the Games only nine years previous, he was twenty-five years old, just six years younger than Arista, but he might as well have been twelve. Instead of mentoring her, Lucius preferred attempting to flirt with her, and trying to pick fights with his fellow mentor, Junia, and their escort, Amare. Needless to say, Arista had had enough of it.

After the interviews, Arista headed towards her room and shut herself inside. She had no idea what Justus was doing, nor did she care. Once alone, she stepped into her bathroom's shower and stood under the refreshing water for a good twenty minutes, knowing she wouldn't be able to enjoy the luxury of feeling clean again for days, maybe even weeks if the Games dragged on for long enough. She might as well enjoy it now while she had fresh water to use at her leisure.

When she was finished, Arista slipped into a pair of light, satin pajamas and the fuzzy bathrobe she had found hanging in her closet. She then glanced at the digital clock that flashed against the bedroom wall. Nine-fifty-four. Arista knew she should get some sleep soon, since Amare would be waking her early in the morning to escort her to the hovercraft, but she had always been a night owl. Away from her husband, this was her time to just relax, without having to worry about holding up the appearance of Slate's perfect, darling wife.

Arista's marriage may have been loveless, but that didn't mean it wasn't a perfect match socially. She had grown up middle class, until her family bite off more than they could chew in an attempt to live a more lavish lifestyle and fell into debt. A mutual friend had introduced her to Slate, the rich right-hand man to the mayor. Arista's parents were looking for someone rich for her to marry, as desperate and sexist that seemed to her, and Slate was looking for a beautiful trophy wife he could use to build his social status.

Slate courted her for six months before they were married. It was such a short engagement for a relationship in which there was no real love present, only lust. Other than money, the only positive impact Slate ever had on her was allowing her son to come into existence. Cassander was twelve now, and she was proud to call him her son. Not heir. That's all he was to Slate, as if Cassander was just another possession to be paraded around and shown off. Slate wanted Cassander to be a Peacekeeper, while Arista wanted the boy to be able to develop into his own person.

Arista and Slate had often quarreled over how Cassander should be raised, and Arista had a strong suspicion Slate had found a way to pry the boy from his mother's loving arms and into his clutches. As the main assistant to the mayor, Slate could have easily had access to the Reaping bowls. It wouldn't have been too hard to tamper with the female bowl and increase the risk of Arista being reaped. There was no way to prove that Slate had rigged the Reaping in some way, and her reaping was more than likely a coincidence, but Arista wouldn't put attempting such a feat past him. Arista suspected there was nothing Slate wouldn't do to push Arista out of Cassander's life in order to fully shape him into the man _he_ wanted. Never mind what Cassander wanted. Never mind that Cassander favored his mother, unless that was her own biased interpretation.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Arista reached down and scooped up the antique locket that hung around her neck. It was circular, about an inch in diameter, and resembled a coiled snake. Arista opened it to find a grinning Cassander on the left and a rare picture of Slate on the right. Rarely still, he was smiling. Arista reckoned the picture was taken not long after her son's birth. Slate's image wasn't important, though. It was the one on the left that had driven her to wear the locket to the Reaping. The image of her son was what now gave Arista the motivation to plow forward.

If Arista being reaped was Slate's doing, was his plan ever going to backfire on him. If she won, she'd have more than enough money to support herself and her son. She would take Cassander to Victor's Village and leave Slate in the dust. She couldn't get full custody without a legal battle, but it would be steps she would be willing to take, provided the actions would make her son happy as well. Then Cassander would be hers, and only hers. Arista wouldn't have to share him with the beast that was her husband ever again, and Cassander could be free to live the life he chose.

First though, before she could do anything else, Arista had to win.

Not yet, though. Right now, she still had a moment of peace She was alone, in a place where she didn't have to worry about living up to her status and impressing others.

She could be free, if only for a moment.

Arista stood from the bed and walked to the radio that set on the dresser. She turned it on to an old, classical station, and turned the volume down low enough so only she could hear it and the sound would not drift outside her walls. Then, she began to dance.

Arista let the music tell her feet where to go. She closed her eyes, letting the music sink into her body and mind as she twisted, twirled, and curtsied around the room. There was no plan, no routine, only the rhythm of the music. Spontaneity was the key here.

No one knew how much she treasured the freedom to dance. She only engaged in dancing when both males were out of the house. She'd push away the furniture and let the music guide her feet and soul. Dancing was the one time Arista could be herself, without the critical gaze of her peers. While dancing, Arista felt relaxed and carefree, like an eagle gliding through the sky.

All moments ended, though, and Arista was startled by a sharp rap at the door. She froze, her thoughts coming back to the present.

"Come in," she called after a few seconds of hesitation.

It was Amare, standing tall and proud in the doorway. He was a self-absorbed man, but also kind, and Arista knew he meant well despite his arrogance. "Good evening, Arista."

She nodded politely. "Good evening, Mr. Star."

"I was just checking in. Is there anything I should tell an Avox to fetch for you?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright," said Amare. "I shall be waking you at five-thirty tomorrow morning. Have a good night."

"You too." Amare closed the door, leaving her alone once again.

Arista glanced at the clock again to find almost a half hour had passed since she had last looked. Giving a small sigh, she pulled off her robe and slipped underneath the covers, hoping to get a goodnight's rest. Who knew when she'd have an opportunity to have another one.

* * *

 **Dresden Lume, District Eight Male, 41**

Dresden couldn't sleep. Not like that was anything new, though.

He wanted a cigarette, or alcohol, but thanks to that old hag, Georgie, the victor of the thirty-seventh Games and one of the oldest victors alive, both were banned from the District Eight floor. Dresden's mentor, Kente, had told him the old woman had forbidden any intoxicating substances ever since one of their tributes in a Games in the eighties convinced an avox to sneak him some whiskey, and the boy got drunk off of it the night of the interviews. Dresden didn't understand why he didn't have to suffer for it, though.

Dresden wished he could have been drunk for his own interview. It was a disaster, with the Capitolites surely hating him, not that he gave a shit. He wasn't trying in the least, much to Kente's disappointment. If Kente didn't realize Dresden was a lost cause by now, though, he never would, and the twenty-year stretch of District Eight going without a new victor would continue. Unless by some miracle Anita's God decided to "save" her, which Dresden highly doubted. If God existed, why was life hell?

After the interviews had ended, Anita had disappeared into her room to go to bed. Not wanting to hang around Georgie and Kente, Dresden decided to go to his as well, though not to sleep. The mentors wouldn't miss him; besides, they had the District Eight escort, Absalon, who was a Hunger Games fanatic and obsessed with the fact that he worked with victors. Although the kid - and he was a kid, at only twenty-one years old - was quiet and respectful towards Dresden and Anita, he could chat the victors' ears off if allowed. Kente always seemed uncomfortable and reluctant, but Georgie was more than happy to discuss any topic with Absalon, a conversation Dresden himself wanted no part of. After making sure Dresden had no desire to talk, Kente retreated into his own room as well, leaving Dresden to his own devices.

Dresden lay in his bed, but he wasn't asleep. It was probably two or three in the morning by now; he wasn't exactly sure, as he hadn't bothered to look at the clock. He was still in a bad mood from his interview and Simone's never ending nosiness, and he didn't think that was going to change anytime soon. The worst part of it all was that Matthias was still on his mind.

Matthias Bonnington, Dresden's ex-boyfriend. He was, of course, the "special someone" Dresden had referred to in his interview, but the Capitol would never know that. Matthias didn't even speak his name during his one interview during the Seventy-seventh Hunger Games. Did Matthias even care for him at all?

For as long as he could remember, Dresden's life had been nothing but shit. He grew up in an orphanage, abandoned by his parents, until the age of nine. That was the age the orphanage decided he was old enough to be thrown into a clothing factory to work. His only ray of hope came in the form of Matthias, a coworker his age, when they were both sixteen.

Suddenly, the next two years started to look a little brighter. They were still crap, of course, but somehow, Matthias made life living. The two teens were together for two years, tangled in a web of love and more prominently, lust. Oh, was the sex good. As far as he knew, Dresden hadn't experienced sex nearly as good since. Dresden had a shitty memory, as he tried to block all memories of Matthias out, but he remembered that much.

Matthias broke his heart. That was all there was to it. By the time they were both eighteen, Dresden had begun noticing a slow, but steady change in Matthias. Matthias had confided in him that he likely suffered from some kind of mental illness, though he didn't have any sort of diagnosis, but he'd never seen Matthias act the way he did in his final few weeks with Dresden. He was quiet and withdrawn, some days just lying in bed and refusing to speak to Dresden at all. Then, at the reaping of the seventy-seventh Games, Matthias gave Dresden the shock of his life. He volunteered. It wasn't as if he was sacrificing himself for Dresden. The boy who had been reaped was a sulky sixteen-year-old, a stranger who could have handled himself fine in the arena.

When he had visited him in the Justice Building, Dresden had be completely flabbergasted. He also felt incredibly betrayed. He angrily began to question Matthias, but his boyfriend has shushed him. He then revealed a horrible truth. One drunken night, Matthias had cheated on Dresden, sleeping with another guy. Oddly enough, the confession wasn't even the worst part. Dresden could have handled that. Matthias was drunk, after all, and he regreted his choice. They could have come back from it.

But no, there he was, insisting they couldn't be together anymore. Matthias claimed he didn't want to live anymore, that he wasn't right for Dresden, that he didn't deserve him. Dresden didn't give him much of a change to explain after that. He had stormed out in a storm of fury and never looked back. Not even two weeks later, Matthias was torn apart by mutts provoked by the girl from District One.

Dresden had done his best to forget Matthias's face after that. He had somehow managed to succeed . Perhaps it was possible to drink to forget. That, and have sex. A lot of sex. He hadn forgotten the names of most of his parents, but some still stood out in his mind. There was Virgil, the brother of Dresden's close acquaintance, Valleria. Then there was Teresa. Although she was yet another face whom he had forgotten, the name was stuck in his head.

Ever since he had been reaped, Dresden could not think about Teresa, a woman he hadn't thought about in so long, without feeling a sense of guilt sink into him. He had apparently knocked her up. He had a kid, and he hadn't even known it. Leave it to him to leave a girl to raise his spawn all on her own. The kid probably hated him, and Dresden knew he deserved every fucking ounce of hate he got.

Dresden had a lot of regrets in his life. He'd be damned if he was going to make these. He, the man who had tried to forget so much of his life, was going to be unforgettable. He wasn't sure what he wanted from these Games, not even whether he wanted to live or die. Either way, Dresden was going to cause a storm. He would make sure of it. He closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, sleep would take him.

If Dresden was going out, he would go out with a fucking bang.

* * *

 _ **The Morning of the Launch**_

 **Circe Banks, District Eleven Female, 37**

 _Another Reaping. Circe had lived in fear of the reaping for twenty-seven years, ever since she was ten and her older sister, Damaris, was first eligible to be taken away from her._

 _Now, here she was, a mother of two. Her kids weren't old enough for the reaping at ages eleven and seven, but Circe was still filled with anxiety and dread every year. The family stood together in the square, with Ciara, Circe's oldest, gripping her mother's hand tightly, and Tiernan much quieter than normal._

 _The tall, pale escort, Gloria, drew a name._

" _Ciara Banks!"_

 _Circe froze, unsure if she had heard correctly. Judging by her daughter's horrified gasp, she had. But how was that possible? Ciara was eleven! Only twelve year olds and older could be reaped. How could this happen? Not her baby girl..._

 _Trembling, Ciara began to move slowly to the stage, walking as though she was trudging through a swamp. Meanwhile, Circe fell to her knees. She felt her husband's strong arms wrap around her as she sobbed._

" _Ciara!" she called in anguish. "Ciara! Don't take my baby! Please don't take her from me…"_

Circe gasped, her eyes flying open. Her heart was beating much faster than it's normal rate, and Circe took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. She had encountered this nightmare many times over the years, and others like it. It had been a recurring dream ever since Ciara was a toddler. If it wasn't Ciara who was reaped, it was little Tiernan. The fact that Ciara and Tiernan were not yet eligible for the Games did not matter. The nightmare still occurred on a frequent basis. However, this was the first time Circe had experienced it without her husband, Harvey, by her side.

Glancing around her darkened room, Circe blinked her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The digital clock on the wall read five-twenty-two in the morning. Her stylist, Claudius, was supposed to be waking her soon anyway, so Circe saw no point in trying to get some more sleep. She slide out of bed and turned on her light, her stomach feeling queasy. She searched for an outfit on her dresser, where an Avox had laid out all her other outfits since arriving, but instead found nothing but a thin bathroom. Perhaps that's all she would be giving until the launch.

Circe shivered as she slipped on the robe. The launch. Was it really happening so soon? She most definitely wasn't ready.

Unfortunately, the Capitol wouldn't care if she was ready. Circe was startled by a rapping at her door, followed by her petite stylist entering her room without invitation.

"Ready?" Claudius asked gruffly. He was a cold, intimidating man, who didn't talk much. Circe wasn't sure if talking more would have made him more or less intimidating. She supposed she shouldn't complain about his silence; she could have ended up with a chatty stylist that wanted to talk even if Circe had little interest in doing so. At the moment, she didn't feel like talking, not to a Capitolite who was about to send her to her death, anyway.

Claudius didn't wait for a response. He simply guided her to the elevator, which then took them up to the roof. Once there, Circe found herself staring up at a ladder that had dropped down from a hovercraft above her. A lump formed in Circe's throat, and she did her best to swallow it.

"Get going," Claudius snapped. Circe scrambled up the ladder as fast as her body would take her, with her stylist following close behind. Once on board, a mysterious woman appeared to inject a tracker into Circe's arm, and then was gone as quickly has she was come. Claudius then lead her to a small table where breakfast was waiting. Circe ate quietly, despite the protests of her jumpy stomach. She might not be able to eat later, she knew, and she had a feeling she would regret it if she didn't eat now.

Neither Circe nor Claudius spoke. Instead, Circe thought. She thought about her allies, Lil and Niels. She hoped they would be able to find each other quickly in the arena, and that the three of them would be able to escape the bloodbath. She thought of her family as well, and how much she missed them.

She thought about her sister, Damaris, and how close they were growing up. How close they still were today, even though they had gone their separate ways. She thought about Harvey, and the first time he kissed her sun-chapped lips, as well as their wedding ceremony. She imagined the bright brown eyes of Ciara, the eyes which were filled with worry at age nine when Ciara asked her parents if it was normal that she had a crush on another girl when most other girls had crushes on boys. She heard the laugh of her baby boy, who didn't understand just how dire of a situation his mother was in.

Oh, how Circe waited to go home. How she wanted to hold her children in her arms and never let them go. She fought back tears. No. No more crying. She had to stop the waterworks now. If her kids saw her crying in the arena, who knew what they would think. They probably would assume she had given up. Circe couldn't have that.

Eventually, the hovercraft came to a stop, and the ladder lowered itself again, this time into a tunnel heading nowhere but done. Circe slowly climbed down the ladder, wanting nothing more than to stay on the hovercraft and hide. The tunnel below was dark, lit only by a few lanterns. Claudius guided her through the winding tunnels to her proper launch room.

Once there, Circe found a pile of clothes waiting for her in the corner. Her outfit included a black t-shirt, as well as tan khaki shorts. There was also a thin, black jacket, white cotton socks, and a pair of brown hiking boots. Wherever Circe was going, it probably wasn't anywhere extremely cold. That was good for Circe. District Eleven was known for it's heat, so she was more used to heat than cold.

"Get changed," Claudius said.

Circe did so, hoping she wasn't blushing when Claudius remained in the room. Once she was done, the stylist pointed her towards the cylindrical tube. She stepped inside, waiting to meet the arena head on.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the platform began to raise her up to the arena above. _Don't cry. It would be alright._

Her mantra sounded like something she would have said to her children. Whether it was Tiernan with a scraped knee, or Ciara wondering if her crush on a girl was normal, Circe used those words to comfort her children. Always, the words she spoke were true when spoken to her children. This time, though, she wasn't sure they still were.

 **Author's Note: And now, just over two weeks later, another chapter! Next stop, the arena!**


	21. Chapter 19: The Bloodbath

**Chapter 19: The Bloodbath**

 **Cornelius Marquis, Head Gamemaker, 28**

One would think that with three Games under their belt, Cornelius would be calm. They were not calm.

Their day started at four in the morning, when they rose from their bed, made themself presentable, and hurried to the Gamemaker Headquarters. Traffic on the underground commuter rail was heavier than Cornelius expected it to be so early in the morning, and far too many people recognized them and wanted an autograph. Finally, their stop arrived, and they had to push themself through a small gathering of Capitolites in order to exit the rail car. From there, it was a short walk - or jog really, at the rate Cornelius was moving - to the Headquarters. Cornelius flashed their card at the identification box near the front door and was greeted by the usual, monotone masculine-sounding voice stating, "Cornelius Marquis, Head Gamemaker," before they hustled inside and took the stairs two at a time from the main control floor.

The clock hadn't yet hit five A.M., so naturally, Cornelius was the first person there. They hoped their staff would begin arriving soon; there was still so much to be done, and the Games were due to start in just over two hours. As Cornelius went around turning on and checking all the equipment, the other Gamemakers slowly trickled in. Cornelius checked in with each member of their team, from the cannon technician to the weather team to his trusty Assistant Head Gamemaker, Mr. Rigel Castello, to ensure everyone was tucked into place and knew their jobs. By six o'clock, Cornelius finally made their way over to perhaps the most important member on their team, the Head Muttation Designer, Mr. Justinian Noble.

Cornelius was proud of all four of their arenas, but this one might just be their favorite. They had worked countless hours on it, and yet, they knew it wouldn't have been possible without the brilliant mind of Justinian. From the time President Snow had told them the Quell twist, Cornelius had known they wanted to do something with a theme of childhood entertainment. They would have gone for a candy land, if only they hadn't used that idea for the Ninety-eighth Games. They also considered an amusement park, but remembered that idea had been done in the mid-Eighties. They thought of a playground, but quickly dismissed the idea, as such an arena would be too simple.

Then Justinian made a suggestion that Cornelius simply could not turn down, to turn the arena into a place children and their parents had been visiting for centuries before the Dark Days hit, but had since vanished everywhere but a single location in the Capitol. Justinian had promised close to two dozen species of new muttations, designed to be genetically modified versions of exotic - and even some extinct - animals of the past using frozen DNA sequences, technology that had been developed not long before the dark days and had managed to be preserved, then perfected in District Three more than seventy-five years previous. And Sweet Panem, did the man ever deliver. He perfected even more mutts than originally promised, and each one were some of the most remarkable creatures Cornelius had ever seen. They absolutely couldn't believe it. They were sure the Capitolites would love them, and these Games were sure to be the best, most exciting in a long, long time. That was why it was so imperative Justinian and his team of Mutation Designers were set up and ready to amaze, not that Cornelius had any doubt in them.

"All set?" Cornelius asked Justinian as they approached, their stomach seemingly twisting itself in knots like it often did when they spoke to Justinian.

"You bet!" Although it was early in the morning, Justinian's eyes were alight with excitement. "All muttations were launched into the arena late last night and are in sleep mode until you give word."

"Including the bears?"

Justinian nodded. "Absolutely. But one push of the button, and they will be out of their dens, ready to cause chaos."

Cornelius breathed a sigh of relief. "Excellent. I do hope everything goes as we have planned. I want these Games to be a raging success."

Justinian laid a hand on Cornelius's shoulder, his violet eyes gentle and comforting. Cornelius did all they could to keep from swooning, or even turning red. "With your hard work and dedication, Head Gamemaker Marquis, they will be."

Cornelius thanked him, and before they could embarrass themself even further, they quickly retreated to their desk. They took a seat in their plush, leather chair and checked to make sure their monitors were set up just right. They checked the clock. Time to start. Cornelius nodded at the camera crew, cueing them to start the broadcast.

On screen, the sun was just rising. The camera zoomed out slowly and panned across the arena, which was a diverse landscape of different terrains and plants, with several winding paths splitting off into separate quadrants, forming four loops and several dead ends with only one destination. One path forked off farther ahead, with a carousel on the right and a theater of some sort to the left. There was a picnic area, where tributes would have a limited food supply. To the south, a large, glass building, a conservatory filled with plants, lay. In the distance, roars, grunts and other intimidating vocalizations could be heard, causing Cornelius to grin widely.

As for the Cornucopia, the great horn was settled on top of a steep, grassy hill that flat at the very top, but littered with rocks and trees. It was an interesting situation for a bloodbath, as the trees would make tributes descending down the hill harder to see, but the rocks and tree roots provided tripping hazards.

"Launch the tributes," Cornelius commanded. Within seconds, the doors of the pads opened wide and the tributes began to rise from underground.

At Cornelius's order, the countdown begin. They could see the Career pack was spread out as far as they could be from one another, which was likely an advantage for them. Cornelius watched the tributes with interest, trying to gauge their reactions to their surroundings. Some looked nervous, while others scanned the circle, searching for their allies.

The gong sounded, and the first tribute to reach the Cornucopia was Valor, where he scooped up a spear. Then, he stood at the ready, set to defend it. His allies gathered weapons, too. Arista hovered nearby to help defend, while Ivory and Justus left, the latter dashing out to go after other tributes.

Unsurprisingly, Justus was the first to make a kill. Despite his barely noticeable limp, he managed to catch up to District Nine's Saffron, who was attempting to escape down the hill. After he sent his knife through the woman's back, he struggled to climb back up the steep hill, his stiff leg causing him some signs of pain as he grit his teeth. Liz made the mistake of running past him though, and although he was not at the right angle, Justus quickly threw a knife at her. It lodged itself Liz's side, but adrenaline kept the woman running down the hill, out of sight

Meanwhile, other tributes began reaching the Cornucopia. Hector and Lucy arrived there first, each picking up a backpack. As they retreated, Arista's knife pierced Hector's upper left arm, but he dislodged it. He paused, looking back as if wanting to go back and attack, but clearly thought better of it, following Lucy down the hill. Seamon and Dresden arrived at the Cornucopia around the same time. Seamon grabbed a backpack, but before he could exit, he meet Valor's spear. While Valor was distracted by the male from Five, Dresden took the opportunity to pick up a bag and a handful of knives before heading out of the Cornucopia again.

Niels and Lil also ran towards the Cornucopia, probably deciding the risk was worth it. Niels grabbed a backpack on the edge of the Cornucopia and started off down the hill, expecting his allies to follow. Lil was a bit bolder, and managed to snag a slightly larger pack. Circe, however, wasn't as confident as her allies. She suddenly seemed to realize her allies were leaving without her, and she stumbled forward, her eyes wide in shock and terror. Unfortunately for her, her feet moved a bit too slowly, and before she could react, Dresden slammed his knife through her heart.

Meanwhile, Arista spotted Chase and Victor trying to escape without stopping by the Cornucopia, and took the opportunity to dash off after them. She threw her knife straight at Chase's back. Oddly enough, Victor didn't even realize his ally's fall, and continued to run. However, in his panic, he wasn't playing attention and unwittingly was running straight towards the steepest side of the hill. Naturally, he tripped over a tree root, did a few somersaults, and hit his head on a rock before landing at the base of a tree. The camera zoomed in on him, showing that the man was indeed unconscious. Cornelius wasn't quite sure if the poor man was dead or not, but even if he wasn't, his time in the arena certainly wouldn't be long after a head injury like that.

Varia and Calissa took the safer approach and bolted down the hill. Tre grabbed an outer pack before following suit. All three women were safely down the hill, without attracting attention to themselves. Joshua, who had frozen for a few seconds, much like Circe, also made it down the hillside.

While Arista was busy chasing the men from Seven and Eleven, several tributes took advantage of the less heavily guarded Cornucopia. Much to the disappointment of Valor, Maddox, Anita, and Zane all managed to pick up at least a minimal amount of supplies. He threw his spear at Maddox, but the man managed to duck around a tree before the spear could hit its mark. Instead, Valor's spear lodged itself in the tree, leaving him with only his knives.

The District Four tributes only visited the outer edge of the action, with Meridian snatching a sack of apples and Marin grabbing a small backpack and a knife. When he turned around, he expected to see Meridian, but instead saw a snarling Dresden, who tackled him to the ground.

Cornelius's eyes widened, sure the District Four tribute was done for. However, they realized they shouldn't be so quick to write him off, when they watched Meridian save her district partner's life by pushing Dresden off of him. She then pried the knife from the District Eight man's hand and sent it through his neck. Then, she helped Marin up, and the two took off, away from the battle.

Finally, all of the tributes were dispersed, and the Careers regrouped at the top of the hill, with Justus being the last to join them.

"Who made kills?" asked the District Two man. "I took out the woman from Nine and hit the District Seven woman in the side."

"I killed the man from Seven," Arista said.

"I took Seamon," Valor added.

Ivory didn't speak, as she had stayed out of the killing, mostly holding her whip and knives off to the side, watching the action. She had been ready to defend herself if necessary.

Justus stared at them. "That's it? Fuck. Let's set up camp then. Then we'll decide who's going hunting and who's staying her." He glared at Ivory. "You going to actually do your part and kill someone if we leave you here to guard the goods, right?"

"Yes," Ivory said calmly. "Of course."

'You'd better, if you know what's good for you," Justus growled. "Now, let's see what we have." He stepped towards the Cornucopia, but Cornelius decided that was as far as they wanted them to go.

"Mr. Noble, activate the bears."

Justinian gave them an excited, dastardly grin, that Cornelius found somehow intimidating and endearing at the same time.

"My pleasure."

 **Author's note: WE ARE FINALLY HERE! :D Nearly a year and a half later! Hopefully it was a good chapter, even if it's sad. It's so hard to say goodbye to all of these guys.**

 **I'm hoping this wasn't too choppy and summarized-feeling. For some reason once I reached the bloodbath I kept wanting to switch to present tense? I don't know why…**

 **Anyway, which death was the most surprising? Who will you miss most?**

 **Also, guesses on the arena? I left plenty of clues, but I'm not sure it's 100% obvious what it is. I'm sure a lot of you can get it, though. Celtic, you can't guess, I already told you. XD Provided you didn't forget of course. :)**

 **Eulogies: I've never done this before, but I thought I'd give it a go.**

 **24th Place: Saffron Jameson, District Nine, jds2416**

 **Saffron was a sweetheart, but at age 45, she was one of the oldest in the Games, and meant to be a bloodbath by her creator, who also created Meridian. Jds2416, if you are reading this, I hope you enjoying reading about her, and I hope you continue to cheer on Meridian.**

 **23rd place: Seamon Deveir, District Five, youngpatriot**

 **Poor Seamon. I'll miss writing him, as his experience with losing a son to the Games was really unique. Thanks so much for him, Elizabeth. I know you will stick around to root for Anita.**

 **22nd: Circe Banks, District Eleven, CelticGames4**

 **Ahhhh Circe :( This one hurt a lot, but the poor sweetheart was never going to make it far. Thank you so much for her Celtic. And look, I even gave you a new placing! I checked! :D I hope you're satisfied with how she was written. I know you will continue to root for (or maybe against?) Justu!**

 **21st: Chase Aldreon, District Seven, grimbutnotalways**

 **Aw Chase. I would have liked to take you farther. I almost did. But in the end, I knew you had to die. I think people are going to be most shocked by his death, but we'll see. Grimbutnotalways, thanks a lot for him, he was a joy to write, and I will miss him a lot. I hope you stick around to see how Lucy fares.**

 **20th: Dresden Lume, District Eight, deathless. smile**

 **Oh, Dresden, you have been through so much. You though, and you almost took out a strong player (Lol, sorry for scaring you twice this chapter with both Liz and Marin, David), but ultimately, you didn't succeed. RIP bud. Thanks for him, deathless. smile, and I hope you stay around to follow Tre throughout the story.**

 **Also, for clarification:**

 **Injured, but alive report:**

 **Victor Mackall, District Eleven: unconscious, but breathing.**

 **Elizabeth Calico, District Seven: severe knife wound to the side.**

 **Hector Jackson, District Ten: minor knife wound to his non-dominant arm.**

 **Everyone else has escaped unharmed… for now.**


	22. Chapter 20: Day 1, part 1

**Author's Note: And I'm back! Hopefully this coming semester will be a lot easier on me. The first POV was posted in the update I had back at the end of October, but the three povs after Valor's are new. I hope you enjoy them.**

 **Chapter 20: Day 1**

 **Valor Acosta, District One male, 39**

 _Cornucopia_

 _7:35 a.m._

Five dead in the bloodbath. That was it. Just five. Valor couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. With such a small death toll, the tributes would be more likely to be more dispersed throughout the arena. Depending on the arena's size, coming across all the other tributes could potentially take weeks. Valor didn't know about the rest of his alliance, but he wanted to get the show on the road. His girls were waiting for him.

Justus was even more frustrated than Valor was. He had disappeared down the hill not long after the bloodbath started and didn't reemerge until it was complete. Valor didn't have a clue where he had gone, but he wasn't going to bother asking. Instead, he watched as the leader of the Pack moved towards the Cornucopia. Valor made a move to follow him, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a sound he didn't think he'd hear so early in the Games. It was a rumble, sounding as though it came from deep within the belly of a beast.

"Do you hear that?" He asked. Behind him, both women nodded, looking weary.

"Hear what, Acosta?" Justus snapped, but judging by the way his body tense, he had heard it too.

Valor bit his lip. "I think -"

"There!" Ivory shrieked, interrupting him.

A roar answered her, and Valor hastily turned around to find a large, furry brown mutt with black eyes staring at them from the edge of the hill. He was a monstrous beast, with a rounded head and large round ears. The beast, clearly modeled after the grizzly bears Valor had only seen pictures of, rose to his hind legs and roared again, swiping his heavy paw - armed with five sharp claws - in the air. Two smaller, but nearly as intimidating, bears joined his side, and no more words were needed as all four of them bolted down the hill the bear mutts on their tail.

The women were surprisingly faster than both him and Justus, as they lead the way down the hill. As they stumbled down the steep slopes, Valor kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look back at the mutts to see how close they were. He knew they were coming, as he could hear the cracking of broken sticks beneath the bears' mighty paws. Valor could feel the muscles in his chest tightening, but he forced himself to keep running. He knew that if he didn't, he would become a bear snack, and there was no way in hell he was going out like that.

About halfway down the slope, Valor noticed Arista and Ivory swerve around an obstacle, and he soon saw why; Victor, the Eleven male, was lying motionless on the ground, knocked out cold. The four Careers ignored him, however, as there were obviously more pressing matters at hand. As they descended down the hill, Valor couldn't help but glance back, only to find that one of the bears had stopped to tear into the man from Eleven's flesh.

He did not want to be him.

Finally, when Valor thought he couldn't run anymore, his feet hit flat ground. The group kept running though, not watching to risk the bears' advancement.

"Hold up!" Justus called, coming to a stop. "They stopped."

Valor and the women slowed, but not without looking over their shoulders. Sure enough, the remaining two bears had stopped at the base of the hill and had begun to pace back and forth, as if stopped by an invisible barrier. Valor, however, knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. He put his hands on knees and breathed rapidly and heavily, trying to somehow stop the wheezes and coughs that occurred every time he breathed in or out. Arista gave him a strange look, but fortunately, Justus didn't seem to notice. Instead, his attention was directed elsewhere.

"And look what we have here," he said, breaking out into a run.

The women bolted after him, but Valor took advantage of the distraction and ducked behind a large tree out of sight. He leaned against against a tree, coughing and wheezing as he used his arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Valor heard a scream from the direction the Pack had run off in, but he ignored it. Right now, he couldn't breath, and that was all he cared about.

 _Damn it, kid_ , Valor thought, unable to speak although he opened his mouth to talk. _Help me out here._

Valor's mentor and former trainee, Midas, knew what he to do. Valor had told the kid that he was asthmatic, just so he could send an inhaler in case _this_ happened. An asthma attack. Damn, he should have used one before he left, but he didn't know he'd be doing so much running in the very first hour of the Games. Hopefully, Midas would be able to send an inhaler quickly. Valor knew just how bad this attack could be if he didn't get medication _soon._

Valor felt like his chest was tightening more and more with every second that passed, and just as he thought he was screwed, his eyes caught sight of a parachute drifting towards him. Using all his strength, Valor reached up and caught the parachute midair. He untied it feverishly and snatched out it's contents, bringing the inhaler to his lips and breathed in deeply. As he finished, the cannons began to sound. As his breathing began to steady, Valor counted each one. They ended once he got to seven.

Seven? Only Five had died in the bloodbath. Of course, there was also Victor, who definitely wouldn't have survived the bear mutt attack. That meant that his allies must have found and killed a tribute at the bottom of the hill. The question was, who was it?

"One?" Justus bellowed, causing Valor to snap to attention. "Do you want us to leave you with the bears? Where the fuck are you?"

Feeling much better, Valor stepped out from behind the tree to join his allies. "Here!" he called, walking briskly over to the group.

"Where were you?" Justus asked. "I took out the woman from Seven. She had collapsed under that tree over there, bleeding heavily from the knife wound I gave her. I finished the job. You heard the scream and the cannons right?"

Valor nodded, quickly coming up with an excuse. "I was scoping out the arena, trying to get my barings." He smirked a little. "I wonder if this counts as seven bloodbath deaths instead of five?"

"Does it matter?" Ivory said shortly. "Seven are dead, but there still are thirteen out there. Can we move on?"

Arista nodded. "The Cornucopia is apparently off limits, hence why the Gamemakers used the bears to chase us off. We should figure out what are surrounding include."

Justus nodded. "Absolutely. Let's keep moving."

Valor agreed, happy to get a move on. The day was early, but already Valor could feel his energy draining, and he at least hoped they could set up a new base before night fell, assuming this arena had a night, of course. They had work to do.

* * *

 **Lil Carey, District Ten, 26**

 _Picnic Grounds_

 _8:20 a.m._

Lil and Niels sat across from each other on the benches of a long, wooden table. They were facing each other, so that their eyes could scan the area behind their companion. To Lil's left, a stand titled, "The Snack Cave" had been constructed by the Gamemakers. Inside, there had been a small supply of nonperishable foods and bottles of water, which Lil and Niels had raided, stuffing as much as they could into the two backpacks they had managed to collect from the bloodbath. In the end, only a few loose items were left. They then took a seat at the table to come up with a plan.

At least, that had been the intention. At the moment, neither Lil nor her normally talkative ally could find the motivation to speak. Almost an hour had passed since the end of the bloodbath, according to the sundial that was centered among the small clearing of tables that Lil and Niels currently occupied, and since then seven cannons had sounded.

There was a possibility one of those cannons had been for Circe.

Lil swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked her eyes to fight back tears. She couldn't break down, especially now, when it was still so early in the Games. However, it was tough. She didn't expect to lose an ally so early, but the chances that Circe had made it out of the bloodbath had seemed to grow more and more slim. She acknowledged the fact that both Circe and Niels had to die for her to live, but the potential of losing Circe still hurt to think about. Lil didn't want to admit it, but she had gotten attached to Circe far too quickly. Not only that, but the change in Niels had been stunning. He barely said one word to Lil as they reached the bottom of the hill and realized Circe wasn't behind them, overcome with worry for his ally.

Niels had been the first to head down the hill, and Lil followed closely behind. She hadn't even looked behind her to see if Circe was coming; she had assumed she ran. When Niels and Lil reached the bottom of the hill, they had stopped near the food stand to catch their breath and hide out of sight of passing tributes. It didn't take long to realize there was no sign of Circe.

Niels had been frantic. He had wanted to run back up the hill to see if she was okay, but Lil had held him back. Making his way back up the hill would have exhausted his energy, first of all. Secondly, there was still a chance Circe had made it down another side of the hill, which would make going back to search for her pointless, and potentially dangerous. There was no telling who they might run into on the way. It took a lot of persuasion on Lil's part, but eventually, the pair decided the best course of action would be to camp out at the base of the hill, at least until the anthem played that night, and they could discover if one of the cannons was indeed for their absent ally.

"What if she doesn't show?" Niels asks softly, breaking the silence that had lasted more than half an hour.

"Then we'll decide where to go from there," Lil replied. She hoped she didn't sound cold, but honestly she didn't want to think about what they would do. She wanted to forget the fact that she was in an arena, one that was filled with mutts based on the roars, screeches, howls, and snorts she kept hearing. However, she knew she couldn't forget where she was, not if she wanted to survive.

"I can't believe I didn't wait to make sure she was behind us. I didn't think to look for either of you. I… I just ran…,"

"Neither of us thought about it, Niels," Lil said, "but what else could we do? We were focused on getting ourselves out, as I'm sure Circe did as well."

Niels didn't reply. Instead, he stared towards the massive hill, as if expecting Circe to emerge from the trees. Lil knew she was trying to reassure herself as much as Niels that they had done all they could, and if Circe did lose her life, it wasn't their fault, but she had a feeling she wasn't able to convince either one of them.

As Lil's glance swept over the horizon looking for signs of danger, her mind drifted to her wife. She couldn't help but wonder what Ling would suggest they do. Ling had always been good at giving advice. After Miron, Lil's ex-boyfriend had left her heartbroken and pregnant, Lil had considered terminating her pregnancy. She was able to get by on her thanks to her job working on the farm that Ling's parents owned, the farm that was now her and Ling's. Still, she didn't know how she could continue to work enough hours to both feed herself and the baby, and give the infant the full amount of care she needed and deserved. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to abort the baby she truly longed for.

Instead, she went to Ling, who had been a single mother of her own at the time. Ling explained how she made it as a single mother, and encouraged Lil that she could do the same, even though the road would be difficult. It wasn't long before Lil fell for Ling and she was surprised to find that Ling returned the feelings. Now, the newlyweds couldn't be happier, running the family and raising two wonderful little girls. At least, they used to be happy, until the reaping came and blew everything Lil loved out of reach.

Lil frowned at her negativity. No, they would still be happy. She wasn't about to leave Ling on her own again, and that would mean winning the Games and coming home. Even though Lil would have enough Victor earnings, she couldn't imagine the Huang-Carey family leaving the farm. Perhaps they could hire people in need, especially single parents, and pay them more than enough money to sustain themselves. They could even expand the farm in order to help more people. There would be no victors village for Lil and Ling. They were farm women for life. The thought brought a smile back to Lill's face, if only for a minute.

"What are you thinking about?" Niels asked suddenly, clearly not able to stay quiet for long no matter how worried he was.

"Home," Lil said softly. It was all she needed to say for Niels to understand.

"Yeah… me too."

Home. As long as she kept District Ten, the farm, and Ling and the girls in mind and focused on that, she would make it. She was at the highest point of her life and to lose it all would be a painful fall from the top indeed.

 **Zane Oupfield, District Nine, 36**

 _Amphitheater_

 _10:05 a.m._

Zane was still alive. Somehow, he had been brave enough to pick up a bag at the Cornucopia, but all he had to show for it was a 10 foot rope, a full water bottle, and a bag of peanuts. Then, his courage ran out, and he bolted down the hill, away from Valor's spear.

From the Cornucopia, Zane had travelled north, following a path labelled "amphitheater". Zane wasn't completely sure what an amphitheater was, but he suspected it was yet another part of rich Capitolite culture, something he cared nothing about.

Judging from his surroundings, Zane guessed an amphitheater was a place of entertainment. The biggest clue was the stage near the back, complete with a covered awning above it. From there were dozens of metal benches, arranged in rows in a semicircular pattern. Zane assumed Capitolites used places like these to give performances or presentations.

Perhaps the most unusual part of the amphitheater was the four feet tall black and white birds with long, narrow beaks and yellow-orange patches on their necks that waddled around the area, calling to each other in sad, lonely-sounding voices.

"Eh, at least you have each other. I'm alone," Zane told the large, seemingly flightless birds. They ignored him.

Zane was used to being ignored. If he wasn't ignored, he was stared at, which was somehow worse. Zane didn't live a life of total isolation, going out when he needed to, and on rare occasions, when he wanted to, but he avoided interacting with other people if possible. People were scary. People could be cruel.

When Zane was alone, his mind drifted. Mostly, negative thoughts flooded his brain, thoughts that made him want to fall asleep and never wake up. He knew he didn't deserve that. Eternal sleep would be a reward for him, a means of escape from himself and his misery. Zane had done nothing to earn such a reward.

Zane's mental health had been poor for as long as he could remember, probably for the majority of his life. His parents had kicked him out at age thirteen due to his worthlessness and inability to hold a steady job and contribute to the family in legal ways. When he had the nerve, he would steal, and while he didn't like it, his parents despised the behavior He couldn't blame them, but he did blame himself when they died of illness due to malnourishment when he was twenty-four. He was starving as well and on the streets, but his parents at least had a roof over their heads. He should have been the one who died, not them. He should have been a worthy son. He couldn't even manage that. What a waste of space he was.

He should be dead now. He _would_ be dead, if it weren't for one thing - or rather, one person - that saved his life. Sitting on a bench, Zane watched a pair of the black and white birds nuzzling each other. With no sound surrounding but the calling of the birds, Zane began to think of the woman who had saved him twelve years previous. He knew he'd likely regret it, as thinking of his loss would make him more depressed rather than raise his mood, but his mind couldn't help but drift to his beloved Daria.

 _Daria Dashmor was a pretty, twenty-two-year-old woman with straight blonde hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. She was a kind soul, with a heart of gold that had recently been cracked by the death of her younger sister. Zane, who was two years older, figured she had a hole in her heart that she needed to fill. For some reason, she chose him. Zane had known her for close to a year now, and he had actually allowed himself to get to know her, something he did with very few people._

" _Come live with me," Daria said. "I have plenty of room. Please, get out of the cold."_

" _You don't want me, Daria," Zane told her. "You deserve someone so much better, someone who isn't a drunk and a addict. Listen to your friends. They're right when they say I'm a good for nothing lowlife."_

 _Daria crossed her arms stubbornly. "No. I refuse to believe that. Anyone can turn their life around. Zane, I will never give up on you."_

 _She did give up on him, eventually. Everyone gave up on him Daria just had such a big heart that she took longer than everyone else. Sure, they got married a year after Zane moved in with her, and soon after their baby girl, Autumn, was born, but Zane still struggled. Daria recovered from losing her sister, but Zane never got back on his feet. He tried to drown his depression in alcohol and drugs, but to no avail. He craved his rare days of hypomania, when for once, he felt bold, and even superhuman, and took risks purchasing gifts for Daria and Autumn that the family couldn't actually afford. Daria dreaded those days, and looked at her husband with hurt and disappointment in her eyes. Zane felt guilty, of course, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration he experienced during every hypomanic state. Then, he'd declined back into his usual state of depression, feeling horrible for disappointing her so much._

 _He disappointed his daughter, too. "Daddy, will you read me a story," little Autumn would ask, but how could a drunk man with slurred speech read a story to a little girl?_

 _Soon, the depression, mania, and alcohol and drug use became too much for Daria. Zane had only expected it. She had tried so hard to help him get over his fear of people and become a functioning member of District Nine, but she had failed, over and over again. So one night, she sat him down at the table, tears pooling in her eyes._

" _Zane," she said, "I don't want to do this…"_

 _Zane stared at his feet. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be good._

" _I love you, Zane. I do. I can't do this anymore, though. I have to think about what's best for me, and even more importantly, for Autumn. I'm sorry, Zane. I… I want a divorce."_

 _Divorce…. It wasn't all that common in District Nine, or any other outer district unless one spouse was abusive, a burden, or otherwise a threat to the other's well-being. It was just so hard to split what meager belongings a family had that most couples preferred to be miserable with each other than toss each other into the cold. Zane, who drained the family's - no,_ Daria's _\- earnings to pay for alcohol and drugs, was definitely a threat to his family's well-being, however._

 _Daria left him, taking Autumn with her. Autumn cried when Zane walked away from the house, but Zane didn't look back. He couldn't bare it._

Zane had only been bold enough to approach his family when he was in states of hypomania, which had happened a handful of times over the years. Daria never shooed him away, but often gave him helpless looks of pity. Autumn, kind-hearted like her mother, hadn't given up yet, often expressing her desire to help him.

Autumn couldn't help him now. She never would be able to help him. He was alone, and he always would be.

 **Meridian Vale, District Four, 29**

 _Wetlands Loop_

 _11:15 a.m._

Meridian hadn't gone into the bloodbath expecting to make a kill. She didn't have much of a plan at all to be honest, other than scooping up a few supplies, finding Marin, and running off. After all, she and Marin weren't part of the traditional Career pack, and therefore didn't have the same goal of taking out as many tributes in the bloodbath as possible like most tributes from District Four tended to do. She most certainly didn't expect to end up saving her only ally's life.

When the gong rang, Meridian had managed to snag a bag of large, red apples that had lain only a short distance from her plate. By sheer luck, she had glanced towards the action just in time to watch the man from Eight catch her ally off guard and tackle him to the ground. At the time, she didn't think, and instead bolted into the chaos. The force of her weight plowing into him was enough to knock Dresden off Marin, and after prying the knife out of the District Eight man's hand, Meridian managed to kill him. After she helped Marin up, the District Four tributes wasted no time escaping the rest of the carnage.

The pair had headed southwest after reaching flat ground. This particular region of the arena had soft ground, and had plenty of shallow ponds and marshlands. Cattails and other wetland grasses reached Meridian's waist, and a wooden boardwalk raised the path above the shallow water, muck. The air had a slightly humid feel, something both Meridian and Marin were used to thanks to the summer months in District Four. Although the wetlands was much different than the beaches of District Four, Meridian felt she and Marin could adapt well.

Once deep enough into the cattails, Meridian crouched down, hiding herself among the wetland plants. Behind her, Marin did the same.

"Why don't we see what's in the pack you picked up?" Meridian suggested.

Marin nodded and shrugged off the bag, placing it on the boardwalk between them and unzipping it. Carefully, he pulled out a bag of dried fruit, followed by a jade green water bottle.

"It's empty, unfortunately," he said, shaking it a little as if to prove to Meridian that there was indeed nothing inside.

"What else is there?"

Marin pulled out a blanket, some fishing line, water purification tablets, and a second knife.

"We don't have any hooks or bait for the line," said Marin, "and there's only one blanket. Overall, though, not bad for such a small backpack, and now we both had a weapon."

"Good. Now I don't have to worry about saving your life again," Meridian joked.

"Yeah, maybe I have a chance now," Marin replied, his lips quarking into a rare, teasing smile. Meridian didn't see her ally joke around much, as he was usually a quiet, fairly solemn kid. He wasn't much like her, which was one reason she decided to ally with him. Meridian was proud of who she was as a person, but having someone as wild and rash as she was wouldn't be a smart choice of an ally. Instead, she hoped her district partner's more reserved personality would help balance her out a little.

"Seriously, though," Marin continued, "thank you for saving me back there. I didn't even see Dresden coming."

Meridian smiled slightly. "Yeah, no problem. It's what allies are for, right? For now, at least. I can't make promises for the future." Her tone was light-hearted, but her words were sincere. She didn't care that Marin had his own little boy to get home to. In Meridian's world, her eight-year-old son, Zachary, came before everything else. Zachary _always_ came first, and that meant Meridian was going to go home to him.

"I'll contribute more as an ally in the future, I promise," Marin said. Although there was a hint of joking in his voice, his words were serious as well.

"You'd better. Should we keep moving?"

Marin nodded and got to his feet. Meridian stood as well, and the pair continued on down the path.

"Maybe we should look for water that isn't too disgusting," Meridian suggested. Even with the purification tablets Marin carried in his backpack, Meridian wasn't keen on drinking the swamp water beneath her feet. Fortunately, she heard the sound of flowing water, and after emerging from a gap in the cattails, spotted some fresher water to the right of the broadwalk. It was wider than a simple stream, but not as wide or fast moving as a river. The ground beneath the boardwalk was still damp and slightly muddy, but not nearly as mucky as it had been a few dozen feet behind them.

"Hand me the canteen?"

Marin reached into the backpack and pulled out the canteen, along with the purification tablets. He passed Meridian the canteen, holding on to the tablets himself. Meridian stepped off the boardwalk and made her way to the riverbank, crouching down to scoop up the water. Meanwhile, Marin hovered a few yards back, watching her back. Just when she had filled the canteen to its brim, she heard a cry of shock from Marin.

"Whoa! Meridian, in the water! Look out!"

Meridian's head snapped up just in time to see a log with fierce, long jaws rise up out of the water, soaking her clothes. Meridian stumbled back, watching as the log scurried towards her at a surprisingly fast rate considering it's short legs. It wasn't until Meridian started to dash back to the boardwalk after Marin that she realized that a log with legs didn't make any sense. This was most definitely not a log, but a living creature. Meridian could hear the snapping on the creature's jaws as it nearly clamped on to Meridian's leg. She leapt onto the boardwalk just in the nick of time and bolted to where Marin stood, watching her with wide eyes. Meridian was about to yell at him to not just stand there and instead keep running, but instead, she decided to stop. Turning around, she saw the scaly, gray beast crawling back and forth in the mud, seeming to never cross over an invisible line. The beast let out a barely audible sound from deep in its throat. If Meridian had to describe it, she would have said it sounded like a strange mix of a growl, a roar, and a hiss.

"Is that a…"

"Crocodile?" Marin suggested, mentioning an ancient animal that supposedly had survived many millenia, since long before the dark days even occured. Who knew if they were even alive beyond Panem's borders.

"Yeah, I think so. It looks like it can't get up here."

"I don't think it can," said Marin, "but I don't want to stick around to find out."

Without waiting for a reply from Meridian, he continued his path down the boardwalk. Meridian followed, having a feeling that wasn't the last mutt they were going to run into. Next time, they might not be so lucky.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, and Happy Holidays to those who don't!**

 **Why are there penguins at the amphitheater, you ask? Because David (david12341) said, and I quote, "** **I'm guessing that it's a zoo(which if it is there better be some penguins in here)." Now, I originally did not put penguins on my arena map (which is poorly drawn because I'm not an artist, but if you guys REALLY want to see it, I can find a way to post it somewhere XD) because there was nowhere to put them. However, David requested penguins, so here you go, David. Here's your free-range emperor penguins XD**

 **A few questions for you guys:**

 **First off, would you like a sponsor system. I'm a bit hesitant to do one because there is so few of you still reading, that I feel like certain tributes will get everything, and others will get nothing. Maybe that's realistic of the Games, though, I don't know. Anyway, I know it's late in the game, but if you guys want a sponsor system, let me know.**

 **Secondly, how did you guys like the format of the chapter? Is four POVs about 1000 words each per chapter good, or would you rather see longer POV? The thing with longer POVs is that either updates will be even slower than they are now or there might be only 3 per chapter. Again, let me know your preferences.**

 **Because I deleted the original chapter and replaced it with this one, here are the previously posted Eulogies:**

 **19th Place: Victor Mackall, CrissKenobieTheNumenorean**

 **Poor Victor.. He really had no idea what was coming. His creator, Criss, meant him to be a bloodbath from the start, and technically, he could be considered one. Criss also requested a "comic relief" sort of death, which was hard to do. I did find the fact that he tripped and hit his head to be extremely bad luck, although there's nothing funny about getting eaten by a bear. Sorry Victor. Criss, if you're still reading, I hope you like how I interpreted Victor.**

 **18th Place: Elizabeth Calico, david12341**

 **In some ways, I wanted to take Liz farther, but there just wasn't many places I could take her. However, I don't think her story as quite over, as she still lives on through her victor son, Justin. Thank you for this creative twist on "family member of a victor" trope, David, and I hope you enjoyed how I wrote her. Thanks so much for her!**


	23. Chapter 21: Day 1, part 2

**Chapter 21: Day 1, part 2**

 **Calissa Peer, District Six Female, 26**

 _Tropics Loop_

 _4:32 p.m._

All three of them were here. That in itself seemed like a miracle.

After gathering at the bottom of the hill, Calissa and here allies had set off North-east into a thick, jungle-like corner of the arena. The three of them had escaped the carnage unnoticed and unscathed, and Tre had even manage to snag a small pack that had proven to contain two packs of crackers, a small bag of raisins, a full water bottle, a roll of bandages, and a pair of binoculars. Unfortunately, they had no weapons, a fact that unsettled Calissa. She hoped they wouldn't have the need for weapons for a long time, but still, she hated to be without in case they had to defend themselves.

Around mid-afternoon, the three women finally felt at ease enough to settle down and make camp. Their section of the arena was beautiful, suspiciously so. It was also noisy, with many species of birds calling far above their heads in the canopy of the trees. Perhaps the most spectacular part of their surrounding was the hundred of delicate butterflies, ranging in color from bright blues and greens to warm oranges and yellows. Calissa was surprised to find that if she stayed absolutely still, an occasional butterfly would land on her arm or shoulder, fanning its wings to sun itself it the light that had managed to stream in from breaks in the trees.

Damien would love it here, if only Calissa could bring him, and if the arena wasn't a place of dangers. Her little boy loved colorful things, and if anything could distract him from the pain his entire body was constantly in, it would be the marvels Calissa had seen so far in this arena. It was so different from their home; District Six was usually quite dark and gray, the opposite of Calissa's current location. Although she missed her little boy, Calissa felt some sense of relief that he wasn't here with her. Calissa couldn't imagine how much of a struggle it would be if she had to be constantly worried about Damien. Damien was her whole world, of course, but she knew allowing him to be a distraction in the arena could be deadly. He might have been constantly on her mind anyway, having him present and at risk would be much worse.

"Alright, what's the plan?" Tre asked quietly, breaking the silence and interrupting Calissa's thoughts. The three of them hadn't said much to each other, perhaps to put off the uncomfortable acknowledgement the Hunger Games had begun.

"We should probably lay low for now, especially until we know more about the arena," Varia suggested.

Calissa nodded. 'I don't want to provoke anyone unless attacked. I know we should try to do something for the sponsors, as well as try to prevent the Gamemakers from sending something after us, but we don't even have weapons to fight with."

Tre sighed. "I just wish I could have gotten a hammer. I would feel a lot more confident if I had a weapon."

The others nodded in agreement, then fell quiet again. After a few minutes, Calissa spoke up again. "I imagine there might be some edible plants here. I can look for some. Two packs of crackers and a bag of raisins will only last us so long, and it's not at all sustainable."

Varia nodded. "Good idea. I can scout the area and see if I can find water. Are you fine with waiting here with the supplies and holding down the hypothetical fort, Tre?"

"Of course," the District Three woman replied, frowning slightly in worry. "Please don't go far, though, and stick to the trails. I would hate for us to get separated."

Varia grinned and gave a salute. "Yes, M'am!" Calissa smiled, happy the middle-aged woman hadn't yet lost her sense of humor and optimism. It was still early in the Games, of course, but Calissa hoped Varia's attitude would stay strong until the end. The alliance needed someone to lift their spirits and bring some positivity to the group, and for the trio of determined mothers, that source of positivity came from Varia's humor.

They split off, and it wasn't too long before Calissa spotted a tree with yellowish-orangish fruit. _They're mangos_ , Calissa's memory supplied instantaneously. She remembered the fruit being part of the plant identification station and knew that it was an edible fruit that could be grown in District Eleven, but wasn't their most well-known product.

Calissa stepped forward towards the tree, but hesitated. Yes, mangos were edible, but that didn't mean these ones weren't genetically engineered to be poisonous by the Gamemakers. How could she know for sure they were safe? She reached out her hand, planning to pick a mango and examine it further, but gasped and jerked her hand back when she saw a rustle in the branches of the tree in front of her.

A black bird with a yellow breast and a beak of at least four or five different colors burst out of the tree, flew over Calissa's head, and landed in another tree behind her. To Calissa's surprise, it had a mango in its beak, swallowing the fruit whole. Calissa's doubt decreased tremendously; if the bird - a toucan, Calissa guessed, based on her limited knowledge of exotic animals from before the Dark Days - could eat the fruit, then she imagined she and her allies could eat them as well. Calissa picked an armful of mangos, wishing she had the backpack Tre had picked up with her to carry them all. Hopefully she could come back and gather more though, but she did manage to collect quiet a few before heading back to where Tre was waiting for her.

"I found mangos!" Calissa told her ally before carefully dumping the fruit into the backpack. "I saw a bird eat them, which tells me that they should be safe to eat."

Calissa left three mangos outside the backpack and handed one to Tre, who glanced at it with apprehension. "I think I'll save this for later. Thanks."

Calissa took a bite of her mango while Tre looked on. It was possible Tre was waiting to see if Calissa had any negative effects to the mango, but knew she couldn't afford to be picky when food was short. Besides, the Games would be boring if everyone died of poisonous fruit, and Calissa didn't think her digestive system could be that much different than the bird's. All remaining worry melted away when the sweet fruit hit her tongue.

A few minutes later, Varia returned. "I couldn't find water, not in this area at least. What do you have there?"

"Mangos," Calissa replied, handing one to the District Five woman. "They're delicious."

Varia took it and noticed the uneaten mango that was still in Tre's hand. "What, are we waiting to see if poor Calissa gets poisoned before we eat?" Varia asked jokingly.

"I won't get poisoned," Calissa answered. "I'm still fine, aren't I? Besides, I saw a bird eating one."

Varia laughed. "I didn't realize we were birds," she said, but took a bite anyway.

Calissa laughed slightly, though her apprehension was starting to return. The possibility that she had made a fatal decision was still very real.

As it turned out, she had no need to worry. That night, Varia took first watch, allowing Calissa to rest. Hours passed, and neither Calissa nor Varia had negative effects from the mangos. Instead, Calissa fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **Anita Lang, District Eight Female, 37**

 _Forest Loop_

 _7:16 p.m._

Everything about Anita's surroundings seemed _wrong_ , both physically and morally. What weighed most on Anita's conscious was the fact that in order to escape this place, she would have to kill. Killing was against God's commandments, but Anita knew victors who didn't make at least one kill were rare. Tributes that didn't take action were likely targeted by the Gamemakers, because no one in the Capitol wanted to see a bunch of tributes lounging around all day. Usually, the sedentary tributes were attacked by natural disaster or mutts, and from what Anita had seen and heard so far, this arena had no shortage of mutts.

Anita had travelled fairly far since escaping the bloodbath. She had begun to head southwest, but quickly turned around when she saw the pair from Four slipping away into the cattails. Marin and Meridian may not have been part of the pack, but they both were young, strong, and plenty capable, coming from a traditional Career district. Even if they weren't from Four, though, there were two of them and one of her, so she wanted to avoid them as much as possible. She had then run back to where she came, trying to get her bearings. Miraculously, she had come to a point where several paths converged, all meeting at a tall, wooden sign. Cautiously sneaking around to the front of the sign to find an arena map.

Taking full advantage of her find, Anita took time to study the map, trying to memorize it's contents. The map was labelled "Panem National Zoo" and seemed to be separated until a half dozen or so regions. Different paths lead to each area of the map, with four main paths looping around into four different complete circles. Each loop seemed to have a different type of biome. From the northwest corner of the map clockwise were the Savanna Loop, the Tropics Loop, the Wetlands Loop, and the Forest Loop. Each loops listed several species of animals Anita had only heard about. Most of the animals could not be found naturally in Panem, especially not in the urbanized District Eight, but Anita assumed the Gamemakers could easily produce them synthetically in a Capitolite lab, probably stronger and even more deadly than ever before.

The four loops weren't the only aspects to the arena. To the north, the path branched off into two directions. The left lead to a rectangular shaped area labelled "Amphitheater", while the right lead to the circular "Carousel". To the south was a large rectangle labelled "Conservatory". The Cornucopia was reasonably in the center of the arena, and the hill it sat on top of was apparently called "Bear Mountain". On the opposite side of the hill from where Anita was was a square labelled "Picnic Grounds", and she briefly considered going there to see if there was food available, but ultimately decided that other tributes were likely to have arrived there first. The chance that there _might_ be food wasn't worth the risk.

Anita had been suddenly startled by the sound of shouting back near the base of the hill, followed by the scream of a woman. The Careers, no doubt. Wanting even less to do with the tributes from One and Two than she did with Meridian and Marin, Anita had hightailed it out of there, heading down the path south, then west.

Now, she was in what the map had indicated to be the forest loop. The sun was now beginning to set, and Anita found herself staring into the enclosure of very large apes. According to the sign nailed to a tree, the apes were Eastern Lowland Gorillas. Currently, the gorillas were peacefully roaming around there enclosure and didn't seem the least bit interested in Anita, even though they could have easily hopped the two feet tall fence that separated them from the District Eight woman. All around the enclosure, bundles of perfectly ripe bananas hung from trees, but the gorillas were stuffing their faces with the fruit, and Anita highly doubted they would be at all friendly if she came in to steal their bananas. After all, the beasts were huge, especially the males. Anita estimated they weighed well over 600, maybe even 700 or 800 pounds and imagined they could easily bash her head in if they wanted to.

Instead of messing with the gorillas, Anita settled down behind a tree next to the enclosure, a small distance away from the path. She kept her eye on the large, black-haired creatures, but still, they paid her no attention. There were far too many to attack, especially with only the small knife she had picked up at the Cornucopia, so Anita would leave them be. Unfortunately, the knife was the only item she had managed to snag at the bloodbath, so she'd have to find food and water at some point. However, it was getting dark, and the last thing Anita wanted to do was wander into an enclosure on accident, so it could wait until the morning.

With nothing else to do, Anita let her mind drift, while still keeping her eyes and ears alert. Her five children were always on her mind, and this was no different. She assumed her family were watching the Games as much as they could, when normally they watched the bare minimum amount that was required. Walsh, her oldest, probably sought comfort in his fiancee, Patricia, with twelve-year-old Mimi by their sides. Meanwhile seventeen-year-old Erica, a true Daddy's girl at heart, would confide in her father. Fourteen-year-old Sebastian was a bit of a mystery, and Anita imagined he was holed up alone in the room he shared with Walsh, refusing to let anyone inside his unscalable walls. Little Hope received most of Anita's worry, as she was only eight, and Anita was concerned about how much seeing her mother in the arena would affect her.

At least they had their father. Derick was a miracle of a man. They met when they were only twelve, during the roughest patch of Anita's life. That was when her parents had divorced, and the event had shaken her to the core. Anita spent much of her time at her cousin and best friend Sable's house to get away from what she saw as a broken household. Derick was Sable's neighbor, and his parents were the most loving, affectionate people she had ever met, especially Derick's mother, Harmony, who was still one of Anita's closest friends to this day. Puppy dog crushes quickly grew into something more, until they finally made things official at the age of 14. They were married four years later and conceived Walsh before their one-month wedding anniversary.

Since then, she and Derick had been not only husband and wife, but also best friends and lifelong partners. They both became managers of floors in their respective factories and did their best to provide for each other and their family. They were a team and never argued. Derick was dependable, unlike Anita's own father, and Anita knew she could trust him, Sable, and her in-laws to care for their family even if she couldn't come home to him. She would make every effort to return to them, of course, but she found solace in his strength and determination to be a great man and a wonderful father.

As the skies grew dark and the faces of the dead were revealed, Anita folded her hands and began to pray. She asked God to protect her family and to aid them through their struggles of having their mother in the arena. She also asked Him to help her find strength, and to forgive her for the sins that she was likely to soon commit. Finally, as always, she praised God for his Greatness, and asked that whatever His will may be, that it would be done.

After speaking to God, Anita felt at peace. Little did she know, not everything was as harmonious as it seemed, as she was not completely alone.

 **Joshua Yates, District Twelve Male, 33**

 _Forest Loop_

 _7:47 p.m._

Joshua decided he was too old to be climbing trees. It was too late to change his mind, though. All he could hope for now was that he could manage to not fall into the pit of gorillas below, attracting the attention of both the great apes and the woman sitting on the ground a few dozen feet away.

Joshua hadn't set out to follow Anita, and he didn't know why he had chosen her. He wasn't looking for an ally, and he knew Anita wasn't either. He knew he could be playing with fire, but when he saw Anita bolt away from the hill after hearing the Careers, he followed her anyway. Now here he was, watching the District Eight woman from afar. It was more than a bit creepy, he had to admit, but Joshua figured that at least observing other tributes trying to gain information was better than wandering alone aimlessly.

Joshua's heart skipped a beat when the silence was suddenly broken by the playing of the national anthem. He shouldn't have been surprised, as the sun had just disappeared beyond the horizon and the sky was steadily growing darker with each passing moment.

One by one, faces of the other tributes appeared in the sky. The first face to appear was Seamon, the man from District Five. At 42, Seamon had been one of the oldest in the arena. He had stuck to himself for most of the training days, and Joshua couldn't blame him.

The next was Chase, the man from Seven, followed by his district partner. In all honestly, Joshua was surprised, as he would have though the pair stood at least a decent chance, especially Elizabeth, being the mother of a victor. However, this was the Hunger Games, and anything could happen.

Dresden's face replaced Elizabeth's, and Joshua automatically glanced down to try to see Anita's reaction. Of course, he couldn't even make out her form, let alone her face, and immediately knew it was a silly thing to do. Joshua didn't know much about Dresden, but from what he had seen, he hadn't been a very pleasant man, so he couldn't imagine Anita would be too bent out of shape over his death.

The final three tributes included Saffron from Nine, and Victor and Circe from Eleven. None of the three had been very strong, and it wasn't really a surprise to see any of them in the sky on the first night. Still though, the face of Circe mad Joshua feel incredibly uneasy, since at 37 years old, the age difference between Circe and himself had only been four years.

Tears pooled in Joshua's eyes despite how hard he tried to hold them back. Seven had died within the first twelve hours of the Games, but sixteen tributes besides himself still remained. How was he going to do this? Could he even do it? Did he have it in him? Or was he just as pathetic as every other District Twelve tribute in the past 25 years? Fuck that, some of them had managed to make the top eight or even higher on occasion. Joshua doubted he'd be able to even make it that far.

Joshua took a quivering breath and closed his eyes. He was determined not to break down again. He already had a panic attack last night after the interviews, one that had kept him miserable and awake for hours. The only thing that had calmed him down was thinking of his husband, Gabriel. Tonight, he would try to do the same.

Joshua thought back to when he and Gabriel had first met. Growing up an orphan, Joshua had been a lonely child, with no real sense of purpose in his life. When he was thirteen, he had managed to secure himself an apprenticeship with one of the local healers. Joshua found he had a talent for healing, and he learned about medicines and herbs from his wise mentor. Over the years, his skills developed, and one day, when he was eighteen, those skills were put to the test. There had been an accident at one of the mines, an all too common occurrence. While some members of the affected crew had lost their lives, others were brought to various healers across the district. One of them, a man in his mid-twenties, was brought to Joshua and his mentor. The man had broken his leg and had suffered multiple burns on his lower body. With his mentor's guidance, Joshua treated Gabriel Yates until the man could walk again, if with a limp. Joshua and Gabriel didn't part after treatment like most of Joshua's patients, though. They began dating and were married shortly after. Gabriel was given a less dangerous position in the mines as a manager, and Joshua emerged from under his mentor's wing as a full-fledged, independent healer.

Gabriel had always been proud of Joshua and never hesitated to let the world know it. He had complete faith in his husband's skills, even more than Joshua himself had. Gabriel's pride was not misguided, however. Joshua's knowledge of plants was extraordinary, and his track record for healing was higher than many of the other nearby healers. He knew what plants could lower fever, and which could ease a hacking cough. Of course, knowledge of plants went both ways, and Joshua also knew which plants could kill instantly when ingested, and which would steal its victim's life slowly and painfully.

Obviously, Joshua cared for human life. Being a healer, that was a given. In the past, he had never even dreamed of considering using plants for harm. However, now that he was competing for his life, Joshua realized his views had to change. He had too much waiting for him back home. He had Gabriel, the man who had entered his life just when he was beginning to totally give up on the idea of love. He had Evvy, his sweet, seventeen-year-old daughter who was wise and mature enough to seem less like a child and more like a friend. He had ten-year-old Hazel, a girl with passion and attitude, but also a soft, sensitive side. He had little five-year-old Vigo, a little boy who had no idea that he had a life before Joshua and Gabriel and, not understanding reproduction and genetics, thought that the two men were his biological parents. Those four lives mattered more to Joshua than any other, including - and perhaps especially - those of the sixteen people in the arena with him.

Thinking of his family, Joshua wiped his eyes of all tears and came to a conclusion. As scared as he was, Joshua knew he was willing to do whatever it took, and if that meant converting himself from an expert of healing to a master of poisons, then so be it.

Joshua had to believe in himself as much as his husband and their family believed in him. Ultimately, that was the only way he'd ever make it home to them.

Like it or not, former healer Joshua Yates had to become a monster.

 **Hector Jackson, District Ten Male, 35**

 _Savanna Loop_

 _9:03 p.m._

 _Nine_ _years of married bliss could be gone in a flash. That lesson hit Hector hard like a wrecking ball the day he found out his fiery wife and high school sweetheart had been a rebel._

 _Hector had no idea of Angelica's valiant acts until the day of her death, so needless to say, her arrest had been a shock to him. She was dragged from their home in front of their son, David, and yanked to the town square, where peacekeepers viciously struck her with a whip. Hector screamed and fought, even punching a peacekeepers square in the face, until he was surrounded. With three against one, Hector had no hope at winning. So he screamed that his wife was innocent, that they must have had the wrong person. No one cared, though, neither the peacekeepers nor the stunned bystanders walking by. Either they didn't care, or they were to afraid to speak up._

 _Eventually, the peacekeepers grew tired of Hector's struggle and knocked him out. He had to have been out for only a few minutes, because when he came to, he was in a jail cell, and he heard Angelica screaming his name. On the other side of the bars, a peacekeeper taunted him, saying if Hector didn't know his beloved wife was a rebel, who knew what else she had hidden from him._

 _Then the screams stopped. The peacekeepers who had whipped his wife entered, told him she had took her final breath, and laughed as Hector crumpled to the ground. They imprisoned him for two weeks with little food and water before finally letting him go back to David. He had hoped the peacekeepers had lied and that Angelica would be back at home, waiting for him. However, they spoke the truth. His wife was gone._

 _Hector almost turned to the bottle after that. He wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol so desperately. If he didn't have David, he probably would have. Not even Isaac, his twin brother, could have stopped him, but fortunately, he had David, and he would never let his son down. Not until his dying breath._

If anyone ever asked him where his hatred towards the Capitol and anyone who supported them came from, Hector knew exactly what he would say. Hector didn't have much of an opinion on the Capitol beforehand, but after his wife was stolen from him, indifference turned to hatred. That hatred also applied to the Career districts, since by volunteering for the Games, they supported the Capitol's cruelty.

Hector considered himself to be a kind man, trying his best to raise his son to be the same. He usual avoided conflict, finding arguing with others to be a waste of his time. However, this was the Hunger Games, and the Careers, especially Justus and Valor, weren't exactly going to be nice. Therefore, Hector needed to fight fire with fire, perhaps even literally, judging from his ally's obsession with the element. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to ally with the pyromaniac, considering how fires of any significant size made him nervous, but Lucy had an active spirit and definitely would be willing to take risks, as in her words, she had "nothing to fucking lose." Despite everything she had been through, Lucy wasn't a quiter, and she wanted to live as much as Hector did. That was why he chose her as his ally. He needed someone willing to take risks, without giving up on him. Lucy was the perfect candidate.

From the beginning, Hector had developed a plan. Fortunately, he and his mentor, Arlo Greenfield, had a similar line of thinking. Arlo hated Careers with a burning passion, and had taken out a good chunk of the pack in his Games ten years before. From the get-go, Arlo had advised that the Careers be eliminated as early as possible, and that was exactly what Hector had intended to do.

Of course, going after the Careers was dangerous and risky, but no one won the Games by playing it safe. Risks had to be taken. Arlo took them and emerged victorious. Even Abilene, the other mentor for Ten, took risks by leading her alliance with three other people successfully and battling her way to the end, killing four tributes along the way. Hector was sure he knew what he wanted to do to advance farther in these Games; he just wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. However, he wasn't alone in this. After all, he had Lucy as an ally for a reason. Before he could develop a plan, though, he had to get Lucy on board with _having_ a plan in the first place.

After the bloodbath, the pair had set up camp in the north-west savanna part of the arena, and that was where they had remained even after the sun had set. Currently, they were settled near the largest animals Hector had ever seen; elephants, according to the nearby sign. Despite their enormous size, the beasts seemed to be nothing more than docile herbivores.

Lucy and Hector hadn't spoken beyond what was necessary as they combed through the supplies they had picked up from the bloodbath. Fortunately for Hector, the backpack Lucy had picked up contained a roll of bandages, which was enough to patch up the wound on his upper left arm that had been caused by Arista's knife. The cut wasn't too deep, but still was sore as hell, and made Hector curse at himself for not paying better attention. He had been lucky it wasn't much worse. In addition to the bandages, the two backpacks combined had contained a dagger, an ax, two full water bottles and one empty one, a small bag of apples, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a blanket, crackers, a jar of peanut butter, a pair of binoculars, a compass, and a pair of extra socks. Hector wished he had access to his weapon of choice, a hammer, but at least he and Lucy each had some form of weapon, so he couldn't complain.

"Hey, Lucy," Hector said suddenly, getting his ally's attention as she munched on an apple.

ly

"Hm?"

"Unless you have a different plan on our strategy, I would like to make a suggestion."

Lucy laughed humorlessly. Hector wasn't sure he had ever heard a true, joyful laugh from the young woman. "Ha. I don't plan shit. What's your suggestion?"

"I say we sabotage the Careers. See if we can get any of them out early."

Hector couldn't see Lucy's expression clearly in the dark, but he could imagine her raising her eyebrows at the bold suggestion. "Do you now? A bold suggestion for so early. It's a risk for sure."

"What? You too scared to take risks? Victors take risks, Lucy. Those who aren't willing to be bold aren't likely to win."

"Oh, I know," Lucy replies. "Of course I'm not scared. Do you have a plan for this so-called sabotage? Because I sure as hell don't, but I'm not stupid enough to charge right in blindly. Sorry pal."

"I have a few ideas," Hector admitted. "The first step is obviously to find them. Once we do, we can watch them for a bit and work out exactly what to do from there."

Even in through the darkness, Hector could see Lucy shrug her shoulders. "Sounds about as good of a plan as any. I'm in. We'll set out tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," Hector said, nodding. "First thing."

"Good. Those fuckers won't know what hit them."

"Let's hope not. In the meantime, we should get some rest. Do you want to take first watch or should I."

"I'll take first watch," Lucy quickly answered. "You can even take the sleeping bag."

"Thanks," said Hector. "Goodnight, Lucy."

"Yeah, night."

Hector crawled into the big, black sack and laid down flat on the ground. Hopefully, tomorrow would be a good, productive day.

 **Author's Note: A combination of being busy and struggling to find motivation and energy to actually start writing was the cause of the delay in this chapter. Hopefully I can be a little faster next chapter. Little action this chapter, but quite a bit of rising action. Any predictions for upcoming chapters? Who do you think will be the next to die?**

 **Also, March 1st is this story's second birthday! Let's hope I finish it by its third, yeah? XD Thank you all so much for being patient with me.**


	24. Chapter 22: Day 2

**Chapter 22: Day 2**

Lucy Furorum, 18, District Twelve

 _Base of Bear Mountain_

 _9:14 a.m._

Most years, the most likely place to find the Careers would have been the Cornucopia. This year was different, however, if the roaring from the rocky hill on which the Cornucopia sat had been any indication. Still though, the Careers weren't likely to be far away from the Cornucopia, since it was most likely at the center of the arena. Careers were predictable.

Lucy and Hector set out from their camp after breakfast, walking back the way they came the day before. Lucy hoped Hector had something in mind, because she had nothing. She just wasn't much of a planner. Ever since her family died in that fire that destroyed her entire life and sparked the journey that got her into this arena in the first place, Lucy had felt… lost. A piece of her died with her family that day, and another piece was turned to ash when she set fire to her rapist and the orphanage that trapped her. Her skin wasn't the only part of her that got burned that day. Although she would never say it aloud, not to Hector or anyone else, but a part of her creative spirit had been lost that day, and it hadn't returned since.

Before Lucy's life went to shit, she thrived off her creativity. Life in District Twelve wasn't easy for anyone, but Lucy's family had made it work. Her father worked long hours in the mines, while her mother sold food. She had a sister, too, who's songs could always raise Lucy's spirits. Lucy's art took up most of her time. She and her sister would sit outside for hours, with Lucy painting and her sister singing. Mockingjays would land on the fence near their little house, attracted to the sound of her sister's voice, and Lucy would paint them.

In a flash, everything was gone. Her last memories of her entire family was the night of the fire. The night had started off so well. Her father came home from the mines early, a rarity for him. They spent hours playing "Guess the Drawing", Lucy's favorite game, talking and laughing as they played. After Lucy won several rounds, the family had gone to bed. Lucy awoke to her mom screaming for her to wake up and get out, and after immediately smelling smoke, Lucy had instantly known what was wrong. Her mother had scooped her up and carried her outside before running in again.

Lucy should have fucking stopped her. She was right _there_. Yes, her father and sister would have still burned, but at least she would have had her mother. At least she wouldn't be alone. Instead, no one else emerged from that house that night, and Lucy was dragged away from the pile of rubble, kicking and screaming all the way to the orphanage.

Her creativity died that night. How could it survive, let alone flourish, when it's main source had been destroyed? Lucy still painted, of course, but all the joy had been drained from her work. Now, she painted out of necessity, as selling her paintings was her only source of income ever since the age of thirteen. She only painted fire now. Everyone was intrigued by the fire paintings of the burned pyromaniac girl. Why paint anything else? What was the point?

There was none, Lucy decided. There was _no_ fucking point.

Hector broke the silence suddenly, but Lucy was so absorbed in horrible memories that she'd rather forget. "Hm?"

Hector raised his eyebrows at her. "You're lost in your own little world there? You okay?"

"Fine!" Lucy snapped, a lot harsher than she intended. Screw it, though. Hector didn't care how nice she was. He would have allied with the sunshine group that was his district partner and her alliance if he wanted nice. Lucy didn't want to get close to anyone ever again, and being cold and harsh had done that for her so far. No reason to stop in a fight to the death..

"Right," Hector said, "well, I don't think you heard me, but I was saying I wanted to check this place out."

Lucy's gaze followed to where Hector was pointing. It was a point where several paths converged, including the one they were currently one. In the center were wooden tables and several shack-like structures.

"Cover me?" Hector asked, and Lucy nodded. She had a dagger, and Hector had an ax, so that had to be enough for now.

Cautiously, Hector crept forward, peering into the dark shacks that relied on natural light from outside. He back out after only a few seconds, giving Lucy the impression that there was nothing of value here.

"No Careers here," Hector said, stating the obvious. "No supplies either. If there was anything here, it's gone now."

"What a shame," Lucy said dryly. She wanted expected anything, anyway, though Hector seemed a bit disappointed. Still, the man held a pensive expression.

"What?" asked Lucy.

"I'm thinking... How willing are you to set a fire?"

Lucy tensed against her will. She would never admit it to even herself, but fire terrified her, despite her obsession with the dangerous element. Still, she held her head high. "You're asking the fucking pyromaniac. What do you think?"

"I'm guessing yes."

"I'll do what it takes." It was what the Capitol would expect, after all. She hated the idea of catering to the Capitol, but what choice did she have? Fire was the weapon she knew inside and out.

Hector liked her answer as well, judging by the grin that appeared out of nowhere. "Good. Here's what I'm thinking. We still need to find the Careers to see if this plan will work. You'll use this place as a distraction. Burn it to the ground. But by the time the careers get here, you won't be here. You'll be with me, back where they started. Do we have a plan?"

It was risky as hell, Lucy had to admit, but what did she have to lose? "Yes. We do."

"Excellent. Now let's go find that Career camp."

* * *

Ivory Spinel, 19, District One

 _Career Base, West of Bear Mountain_

 _12:36 p.m._

Ivory couldn't help but feel a little grumpy, but she knew it was in her best interest to be mature about this.

Her allies had left about twenty minutes ago to scout out the arena and search for other tributes. Justus had ruled that one of them should stay behind and guard the supplies they had gathered at the base of the hill where the abandoned Cornucopia was settled. The camp was next to a rather convenient map of the arena, which the pack would certainly use to its advantage. Much to Ivory's annoyance, Justus had delegated the job of guard duty to her, since she was the youngest among them and was the only one of the four to not have killed yet.

This logic frustrated Ivory, as she knew she was just as capable as the rest of them. She just needed them to let her prove it. Part of her regretted her defensive strategy in the bloodbath, as she had just picked up a whip and dagger and stood ready to protect herself. No one dared to attack her, though, and so far, she hadn't needed to use her weapons.

Ivory was currently left to her on devices to wander camp. She wondered if Estella missed her. It probably wasn't likely, as her infant daughter was just over a month old, not old enough to know Ivory as anything but a source of food and comfort. Honestly, her mother could provide the same resources, perhaps even better than Ivory could. She had to now, since Ivory couldn't be there to breastfeed.

Ivory's parents were lifesavers; that was for damn sure. Even though Estella's father, Jasper, had left them, Ivory's parents never would. Her mother taught her the trade of making jewelry, and Ivory had no doubt Estella would learn, too. Once Ivory won, jewelry making could be her victor's talent. Her mother would only work at the jewelry store if she wanted to, and her father could retire from the gem mines before the age of 50. Giving back to her parents would be the least she could do, to thank them for supporting her when Jasper refused.

Although she didn't want to admit it, Ivory didn't know how to be a mother. She loved Estella, that much she knew. She supposed that was the first step, but still, just giving love wasn't enough. How was she supposed to parent Estella when she wasn't even out of her teenage years herself? At least she had her parents to help her on this journey. Honestly, she had no idea what she would do without them.

Ivory suddenly heard a snap of a branch, drawing her attention away from her thoughts and to the trees at the bottom of the hill. Frowning, she took a step towards the sound. She wondered if it was just her imagination, or perhaps the wind. Still, there was a chance it could be a tribute. If it was, Ivory could kill them and prove her worth. Justus seemed to be very volatile, and Ivory knew he could evict her from the alliance or even try to kill her whenever he wanted. Ivory was intent on not letting that happen. Hopefully, finally making a kill would increase her odds.

Determined, Ivory sprinted towards the trees, slowing her pace once she was under cover of the branches. She scanned the area, but was unable to see any source of the sound. Her eyes widen and her feet instinctively took a step back when she suddenly saw a flash of metal fall less than two feet from her face. Unsurprisingly, Ivory heard a curse from above.

The young woman glanced up to see the man from Ten about eight to ten feet off the ground, clinging to a branch of a tree with one arm. He glared at her, reminding Ivory of a three-year-old who refused to come downstairs for dinner because they couldn't eat dessert first.

"Well, come up and get me," the District Ten man said with a sneer. "Prove you are a _true_ career."

Ivory refused to let him bait her. Climbing up the tree was not in her best interest, since she hadn't spent much time working with the rock wall in training. She did not want to risk falling, even from the height the man was at. She also didn't want to throw her dagger or the ax that had landed on the ground near her feet. Instead, she glanced around, trying to find something that could aid her and give her an advantage. If he was one the ground, Ivory was sure she would have the upperhand.

Finally, Ivory spotted something. The pathway behind her was lined with rocks that weren't too big to pick up, but large enough to make a difference. Sure, they wouldn't do much damage directly, but perhaps they would be enough to distract him.

Ivory gathered an armful of rocks and launched them one by one at the man in the tree. She felt a bit ridiculous doing it, but a few of the rocks made it close to the man, some even hitting him and he wobbled a bit as he tried to dodge him.

Suddenly, Ivory felt a sharp pain dig deep into her back and slash downward. Metal was torn from her back, and Ivory crumpled to the ground, overcome by the sheer agony. Feeling dizzy, her eyes darted upward to see the girl from District Twelve towering above her, her eyes - one bright blue and one milky white from being damaged by flames - full of fury.

Lying on the ground, Ivory tried to lean forward swing her arm at the younger teen, but with the heavily bleeding wound on her back and the agonizing pain, it was hard to concentrate. To make matters even more bleak, the girl kicked at Ivory's hand, moving the dagger out of the way before stomping on her hand, crushing her fingers. Ivory cried out in pain as the District Twelve tribute threw her weight against the older teen. So many thoughts passed through Ivory's mind Most importantly, how foolish she was to think that just because she had training did not guarantee anything in a fight. She could have scolded herself for focusing so hard on trying to manipulate the man from Ten into giving her the advantage that she hadn't considered other possibilities. Now, it had cost her.

The last thought that crossed Ivory's mind was how reckless she had been for forgetting the tribute she was trying to kill had an ally. Then, her opponent's dagger slashed her throat.

* * *

Maddox Hazeldine, 39, District Six

 _Savanna Loop_

 _5:49 p.m._

More than twenty-four hours into the Games, and Maddox had managed to stay out of danger. Early afternoon, he had heard the sound of a cannon fire, but the day had been silent beyond that point. He couldn't imagine who it might have been for, since there was still seventeen tributes left. Well… sixteen now. Part of Maddox hoped one of the stronger tributes had died, but the logical part of him told him it was unlikely. Maddox could only hope that he could be so lucky.

He certainly hadn't been lucky with what he had managed to snag at the bloodbath. He had picked up a backpack and evaded the spear of the man from One, but the backpack had only contained a small, rolled up tent, a pillow, a full water bottle, and a small canister of nuts. He had no weapon and only a limited supply of food and water. It seemed like risking the bloodbath wasn't as profitable as he hoped. He was still alive and not at all injured, so he supposed he had his life and health to be thankful for at least. Still, he was not in as much of the ideal situation as he would have liked to have been. In addition, as much as he was open to having an ally, he was alone.

The lion mutts snoozing in the shade in their enclosure weren't alone, unfortunately, lounging around in what seemed to be a family group of five members. One lion had thick scruffy fur around his head and neck and was larger than the others, so Maddox assumed this group included one male and four females. Logically, though, Maddox realized it did not matter what the sex of the mutts were; their powerful jaws and jagged claws looked like they would be guaranteed death if they sank into Maddox's delicate skin. Maddox was wary, that was for sure, but for now, the fences seemed to hold the beasts back. Both Maddox's brain and gut told him he shouldn't stay here long, but hopefully, there would be no harm in staying here one more night.

Maddox was glad the heat of the day had passed. He had managed to pitch his tent under the shade of a tree, one of the few trees in the area. The rest of this region of the arena was long stretches of grasslands. Maddox could no longer see the mutts he had passed on the way in, but he knew they were still out there, grazing on the savanna grass. Maddox hadn't expected so many mutts in the arena, and needless to say, they all put him on edge. Being from an urban district, Maddox wasn't used to large animals, nor did District Six's children learn about them in school. Maddox had never seen more than squirrels, rabbits, songbirds, geese, stray cats, and once or twice, an occasional fox. To see such a large mutt that could easily weigh two or three times his own weight and rip him apart was terrifying. And the lion mutts were nothing compared to the elephant mutts, which probably weighed several tons and had curved, weapon-like structures projecting from their heads.

Maddox sat near his tent, hidden away in the long grass. He tried to image what would be going through his mind if he were a gamemaker. It didn't seem reasonable that they would create dozens of mutts simply for decoration or the tributes' entertainment. No, the only ones that these mutts were designed to entertain would be the Capitolites. Therefore, there had to be some greater purpose, one that Maddox wasn't eager to discover. He wondered if the only sources of water would be inside the mutt enclosures, or if the gamemakers had an even more sinister plot in mind. Only time would tell.

In the meantime, Maddox would just try his best to survive with what he had. He wouldn't act defensively from the beginning. There was still so many tributes who were younger and stronger than him, as he was creeping up on forty. Not to mention he had no allies. He knew the tributes from One, Two, and Four were split into two alliances this year, with the pair from Four breaking away from the traditional pack, but even so, he didn't want to run into any of the six tributes even in a one-on-one faceoff. Maddox knew he'd have to face the fire at some point, otherwise ending up the victim of gamemaker intervention had a high probability, but at the same time, there was no point in being reckless and ending up injured, or worse, losing his life.

Although Maddox had faith that his strategy was the best one for him, he knew different strategies worked for different people. His husband, Warren, came to mind. Maddox loved Warren, and their relationship was very deep and intimate, but the two men were very different. Warren was brash and stubborn. He acted on emotions, while most of the time, Maddox used logic to think things through. Despite their differences, an argument between them was rare. When one did occur, all that the pair needed to do was blow off steam for a few hours, and then push their pride aside and come back to apologize. If Warren was in the Games, he would be on the edge of his seat, hoping Warren wouldn't get into a fight on the very first day. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be worried about Warren and needing to tend to the needs of his children, fifteen-year-old Alasdair and eleven-year-old Giselle. Ever since Alasdair turned twelve, the fear that he would lose one of his children to the Games had lingered in the back of Maddox's mind. After his nineteenth birthday, he never had imagined that he would have to fear himself in the Games as well. Yet, here he was, in the arena. At least that met Alasdair was safe in District Six, at least for another year.

Maddox twisted off the cap of his water bottle and took a conservative sip. He gently shook the bottle, swirling the water and hearing it splash against the metal. He had been trying to drink water in moderation, but unfortunately the water bottle wasn't that big, and he was already running low. He would have to find more, and soon. However, the only water he had seen so far was a pond at the opposite end of the elephant enclosure, which honestly, didn't look all that inviting.

Whether or not the elephants were inviting didn't matter, though. Deep down, Maddox realized that sooner than later, he would have to face the mutts in this arena. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Midas Karlen, 18, District One Mentor and Victor of the Ninety-Ninth Hunger Games

 _Mentor Room_

 _7:02 p.m._

Unity was quiet. That was strange and unexpected. Unity may not have ever been as loud and extroverted as Comfort Caine, victor of the Seventy-sixth Games, but she was very outgoing compared to the private Kee Sumner of the Eighty-first Games and the troubled Burgundy D'Sousa, victor of the Eighty-ninth Games, District One's other victors. To hear her not say a word and rather stare coldly at the monitor in front of them unnerved Midas.

"Are you alright?" He asked awkwardly, never really having been one for words of comfort.

Unity hesitated for a second before turning to him. "Fine," she said, her voice void of emotion. "I just… I can't believe we lost a tribute so soon, on day _two_. I've never seen a tribute do so poorly as Ivory. I know she was reaped, for the first time in District One since Cashmere and Gloss in the last Quell, but I still expected her to make it farther. It… it makes me feel like I failed her."

Midas was reminded then just how young Unity was. Sure, he may have been District One's youngest victor and felt he had no idea what he was doing when it came to mentoring, but he sometimes forgot Unity was just twenty-five, and that she had won her Games a mere six years before he won his. So recently, he remembered watching her victor at the age of eleven. After listening to his mother gush about what a "perfect, honorable daughter" Unity was sure to be and how the Quisenberry family was lucky to have her, Midas decided that he would do the same thing and make his own mother proud. His victory hadn't had much effect on his relationship with her, though, and with everything he had been through, he often wondered if he had made the right choice to volunteer.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Midas finally replied quietly. "It was a sneaky attack."

Unity sighed. "I know. It's just hard. Even for Careers, losing tributes is the hardest part of mentoring. If you haven't learned that yet, Midas, get ready to." She paused for a few seconds. "Are you fine here? I'm going to grab some dinner."

Midas nodded, and watched as his mentoring partner left the room. He knew all too well how hard mentoring was turning out to be. Being the previous year's victor, never before had he seen his district lose on of their tributes from this side of the screen, sitting in the mentor room. He knew Ivory. She went to the same Academy as him, and saw her graduate from the program when he returned from the Games. When Ivory was reaped, he wasn't sure how he would react if she died. Would he grieve? Would he be so hardened to death that he wouldn't even care? Now, the moment had come. Ivory was gone, but all he felt was shock that a tribute who had trained since she was young could be dead so suddenly. That fact terrified Midas.

Ivory wasn't even his tribute. Just thinking about Valor in the arena gave Midas a flood of anxiety. Even if Valor was just an ordinary tribute, a seventeen or eighteen year old like most years, Midas would have been a nervous wreck, having another person's life in his hands. Valor was different, however. He was a thirty-nine-year-old man, one with asthma at that. Midas alone knew Valor suffered from the respiratory condition, as the man made him promise no one else would know. Fortunately, Midas was able to gather the sponsorship money to buy him an inhaler, the first gift of this year's Games.

Asthma wasn't the only reason Midas was so concerned about the man. For one thing, Valor had been one of his trainers at the Academy. How could he mentor a man who taught him much of what he knew? To make matters worse, Midas was dating Flair Acosta-Martell, a girl who happened to be Valor's eldest daughter. He and Flair hadn't been together long, only about a month and a half, but they had been friends for a few years. Flair was furious when the Quell twist was announced, because she had been planning on volunteering this year. The fact that her father volunteered only made things worse. Despite Flair being angry that her father volunteered instead of her, Midas knew she still wanted him home. Even though he was glad Flair was safe from the Games and there horrors, he was worried for her father. If he failed to bring Valor home, how could he face Flair again?

Ivory's death only added fuel to Midas's anxiety. It showed just how suddenly a death could happen, and how powerless Midas would be to stop it. The entire morning, the audience was aware of Lucy's and Hector's presence as they stalked the Careers' camp, unbeknownst to the pack. When Valor, Justus, and Arista began their trek around the hill to the south, Lucy had bolted to the empty picnic grounds around the northern side of the hill. She lit a fire, then headed back towards Hector once the flames were big enough to draw the pack's attention. Valor and his allies soon realized they had been played and rushed back to camp, but by the time they had returned, Ivory's cannon had sounded, and Lucy and Hector had disappeared.

Valor had seemed just as shocked to lose an ally so soon as Midas was, but other than that, that seem too affected. Arista had suggested the pair from Ten and Twelve had been the cause of Ivory's death, knowing that the District Twelve girl was known for sparking fires. Justus meanwhile… well, the best way Midas could describe it was that the District Two man went into a range as he stormed around camp, cursing and forgetting to hide the limp in his leg while Valor and Arista looked on. Midas couldn't help but be confused. He knew Justus didn't give a shit about Ivory whatsoever, so there must have been some deeper reason for Justus's rage. He just wasn't sure what it was. He could still remember the chilling words Justus had snarled to his allies.

"No one should dare mess with _my_ pack. That little rat from Twelve's arrogance has carried on for too long. They need to pay for thinking they could play us like this. Pay, dammit!"

Midas had no idea what would happen next, but he knew one thing; the District Two man had definitely seemed to have become unhinged.

 **Author's Note: So I accidentally when on a five month hiatus again. Whoops. I'm sorry for not giving notice, but I kept saying "Oh, I'll be updating soon anyway". But soon turned out to be far away, lol. College classes are still keeping me busy, but I'm hoping this fall and spring semester, I won't go more than 2 months between updates. One month would be ideal, but we'll see. I really do love writing this, and we will reach the end eventually, but it's hard to find time, energy, and motivation all at once. Thank you all so much for your patience and for sticking with me!**

 **Eulogy:  
17th: Ivory Spinel. To be honest, five months ago, I wasn't sure where I wanted the careers vs. Rebel Spirit (Lucy and Hector) fight to go. I even changed my mind about who was going to die twice, and ended up choosing Ivory for plot and arc purposes, as you saw developing in Midas's POV. I'm sorry it had to be so soon. Unfortunately, she just got caught off guard, and no matter how much training you have, sometimes there is just no coming back from that. Xxbookwormmockingjayxx, I don't know if you are still reading, but I hope you are satisfied with how Ivory was written! If only she had more time to get to know her daughter. **


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